History Repeating
by Metronomeblue
Summary: Captain Swan. Emma's heart gets ripped out, and Killian grieves. Family/Grief fic with Henry, Regina, Charming, Snow, etc. Now extended. Added Frankenwolf and tiny hints of Royal Cricket and also lots of pain.
1. Grief

A/N: Let's pretend, for the sake of plot, that Emma can actually lose her heart. This actually ended up being more of an aftermath fic, really, it was supposed to end more angsty, but fluff invaded. It's kind of about how much Emma became part of Storybrooke and how Killian has to deal with that while he becomes pat of it.

_**EDIT: Now expanded into a full story. Other chapters are the expanded version!**_

He had been here before. The exact same place. Except the last time this happened it hadn't been nearly as painful.

He had thought Milah was his true love. He had thought he'd never love again. He had been wrong on both counts.

Killian Jones seemed to be wrong an awful lot of the time.

That was, after all, the reason he was standing here. 'Here' being the docks at the very edge of Storybrooke, empty, now that he had given his ship to his first mate. He had no use for it anymore. He could never leave Storybrooke, not when she was buried here. He drew in a shaky, frozen breath of air, releasing it in a sob. Buried here with his broken heart.

He had though Milah was the only woman he'd ever love like that, with all the childish, burning splendour of his first real love. He might've been right about that. He knew better now, knew the reasons for that assumption. He had never loved with that childish hope, not since her death, but with Emma... With Emma it was different. Warm and forever and blinding like the evening sunlight at sea. It had taken ages for her to come around, to allow that sunset to warm her fingers and heart, but once she had, they were glorious together. Without a doubt, she had been his true love.

Which brought him around full circle to the reason he was standing unsteadily on the very edge of the dock.

True love. Having your love's heart ripped out once was bad enough, but your true love? That was Killian's worst nightmare and most paralyzing fear.

And it had happened.

Another frozen lungful of air entered and left his chest, every memory coming to the forefront of his mind to taunt him.

Watching Emma's face contort in pain. Following the line of her hair to her chest, only to see Cora's fist dangling that most precious of objects from her fingertips.

Diving forward to catch her as she fell, cursing history for repeating itself, cursing himself for being selfish enough to bring her into this.

Watching as the life faded from her eyes, hearing the faintest of 'I love you's, feeling his blood freeze in his veins, clutching frantically at what remained of her, whispering with everything he was that he loved her, hoping desperately that she had heard him before she went limp and weightless in his arms.

Holding Cora's neck back so Regina could take her heart.

Henry sobbing into his chest as they held onto each other for dear life.

Snow White and Charming standing over her lifeless body in Gold's shop.

Brushing a lock of hair behind her ear before she was lowered into the ground.

Calming Henry when he woke screaming her name in the middle of the night.

Gold laying her necklace in front of him, a twisted and heartrending peace offering.

Taking it.

Belle forgiving him with a kiss on the cheek and a book.

Charming sleeping in his daughter's chair at the Sheriff's desk.

Regina's offer to talk about it if he needed.

Henry calling for 'Dad' and expecting him.

Snow White telling him, half-drunk, that she considered him her son-in-law.

Aurora shooting him concerned glances as often as glares.

A man named Jefferson quietly leaving a top hat on his doorstep, with a letter explaining why.

Mulan's utterly stoic tears.

Ruby collapsing at the funeral, being pulled up by Belle and Snow.

A man named August putting roses on her grave.

Pain. Pain, marred the empty blank-blurred days of mourning and new-found family and lost love.

So here he stood. Wondering what he was supposed to live for now.

"Henry," He could almost hear her say. "Don't you dare leave him behind."

So he didn't.

He never would.

Jefferson helped him with Henry as often as Regina did.

Regina herself became quite a close friend to Killian, meeting for coffee every week to share about Daniel and Emma.

Killian and Gold made their peace with Milah, whose ghost was actually quite miffed about their revenge feud.

He began working at the pawn shop, learning that he had quite a fondness for the job.

And when Henry began dating, it was Killian who jokingly gave him both the Kama Sutra and advice on what flowers to get.

When Ruby thought Peter might be alive, it was Killian who was allowed to stay in the room while she explained to Snow and Charming.

August asked him for help when writing.

And when Henry was going to propose, it was Killian he asked advice from.

And when Henry was twenty-four and getting married and completely petrified, it was Killian who walked his fiancee down the aisle.

And when Henry's daughter was born and he was wondering how he could possibly take care of this tiny, beautiful life, it was Killian who told him about every doubt he had when Emma died, every night he lay awake wondering how he could ever be a good father.

They named her Emma Regina Mills.

And when he stood at the end of the docks, breathing in salt air and wanting to sail away, he thought of Henry and Snow and Charming and Gold and Regina and Jefferson and August and Henry's Emma and his Emma...

And wondered why he'd ever want to leave.


	2. Stardust

A/N: Well. That was painful. I seriously do not reccomend listening to Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. I did while writing it, and trust me: IT HURTS EVEN MORE IF YOU DO. Apologies in advance.

He woke to the sound of her breathing and the brush of morning light over his eyelids. Locks of silver-gold hair had fallen over his shoulders in the night, and Emma's legs were resolutely clinging to his own.

Killian had already decided he had never had a better morning when she rolled over and planted a sloppy, spontaneous kiss on his cheekbone. He smiled.

Today was going to be good. He could tell.

They proceeded to the kitchen, Emma handing him his hook and pretending not to notice when he simmply set it down on the table. He felt safe enough in her home to not need it at all times.

Henry skidded into the room in his school uniform, tossing three books onto the table and sticking a whole piece of toast partly into his mouth.

"Mmrmflg ghrdflt aprjekhert." He muttered, ripping the rest of the toast out to swallow and finish his sentence. "So I thought maybe I could help her?"

"Perhaps you ought to finish chewing before you ask your mum something, lad." Killian pointed out amusedly.

"Right well, anyway, Grace has a project and I wanted to help her. Do you think I could work at the library after school with her?" Henry said quickly, as though speed would make it harder for her to understand him.

Emma glared half-heartedly.

"Do not tell Ms. French about Killian, do not talk to Mr. Gold, and DO NOT in any way, mention that Killian is here in Storybrooke." She lay down the terms firmly and quietly.

"With you." Henry added mischievously. Killian, who had, up to this point, been sipping coffee quietly and watching the friendly battle commence, now smirked nostalgically.

"I keep forgetting you lot hate me." He smiled, as though it was the same sort of funny as a hedgehog being treated like a dragon.

Emma glared half-heartedly. Again.

"Stop it. This isn't funny."

"It kind of is." Killian offered, grinning.

"Yeah!" Henry agreed, leaning across the table to steal a forkful of Killian's french toast.

"Hey! Get your own, lad!" The pirate drew his plate in closer to his chest using his handless arm.

"You weren't eating it!" Henry protested, laughing.

"I've only got one hand!" Killian made a scandalised face and waved his coffee mug. "Do you honestly expect me to multitask?"

"Yes," Emma smiled calmly, "He expects everyone to operate on the same hyperactive accomplishment level as he does."

"I am not hyperactive!" Henry looked petulant in the way only a petulant child can.

"No. You know what you are, though?" Killian asked slyly.

"What?" Henry asked, a small old-mannish expression of befuddlement spreading across his tiny face.

"Late for school." Emma and Henry shared a moment of complete and utter dismay, then rushed into furious action to get Henry to class at a respectable time.

Killian chuckled.

"You seriously brought your pirate ship to Storybrooke?" Emma laughed, staring up at the thing in question.

"Of course!" Killian put a hand to his chest. "She's my first home! Honestly, Swan, you wound me!"

"Your first?" Emma's voice went soft, and she reached out for his hand.

"To be honest, she's really the only home I had before I met you. I remember the day I stole her... Oh, those were good times. Shame I quit the whole 'Scourge of the High Seas' business. The things I do for you," he teased, letting go of her hand and turning away as though to cry. "I may as well just leave and end my own misery."

"Yeah? I could aways push you into the ocean. End your misery now." Emma didn't sound sympathetic, but the slight smile on her face belied her words.

"Really? Well, if you're that willing, there are other ways of ending my misery..." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Nope. Not now." She smacked his arm, both of them laughing happily as they meandered up the gangway.

"Ah," he breathed out gladly. "Home, sweet home."

"She's beautiful." Emma murmured, almost impulsively running delicate fingers up the varnished wooden railing at the bow of the ship.

"Isn't she, though?" Both Emma and Killian swung shrpaly toward the sound of the voice, grasping blindly to the wood at their backs.

And then suddenly there wasn't any wood at his back, and Killian was lying face-up on the ground at the bottom of the gangway.

He scrambled up as quickly as he could, everything feeling painful and distinctly wrong, beacuse he was taking two steps where he was used to taking one, there was breath flowing out instead of in, chills rushing through his shoulders and a brilliant mighty fire in his chest.

He reached the top of the wooden ramp and stopped.

Emma's neck was at a strange angle, and she was dangling higher than she should have been in the air.

Cora's hand was thrust firmly into the left side of her chest.

Killian fought against an invisible wall, his legs trembling, eyes fluttering in futility at the stupid tears in his eyes. Every breath was a scream of her name, every blink as quick as possible so as not to take his eyes away from her. Cora pulled her hand back out of Emma's chest and she dropped like a stone.

In that very second, the invisible wall disappeared and Killian hurtled forward to catch her. She fit naturally into his arms, and it almost felt right, familiar.

And it should have because it had happened once before. Once before on the very deck of this ship, and here he was again, cradling a woman he loved, begging her to look at him, trying to find some way to save her. Emma gasped out, lurching forward.

"I love you." She whispered painfully, and he knew it took what was left of her to do it.

"I love you, too. I love you. Emma, I love you." He whispered, rocking her like a child. Killian swallowed, brushing hair away from her face, locking theri blue eyes and not letting go until Emma drew one last shuddering breath, her fingers tightened on his sleeve, and her head fell heavy over his arm.

Cora smiled, and out of her hand fell a very fine, very soft ash-like silver detritus.

Blinding and shimmering, and looking terrifyingly like stardust, the remains of Emma Swan's heart drifted to the deck of the Jolly Roger.

TBC. 


	3. Dahlias and Daisies

A/N: Change by Churchill. 'Nuff said.

Killian lay her down on their bed. Their bed, the one they'd shared for seven months. She'd always loved to call it that. She much preferred that bed to any other in Storybrooke, even though it creaked when you flopped down on it, even though there were three spiders nesting under it. It was theirs.

He swallowed and blinked away a few tears. If it weren't for the tear tracks and silver dust caught in her hair, she might have been asleep. But then, she might not.

He had spent three hundred years hunting down Rumplestiltskin. Three hundred years chasing a crocodile.

It was time to catch a queen.

Snow was bent over her daughter, smoothing her hair and sobbing. Charming held her, face stony and tears bleeding from his eyes.

He gave Killian his sword.

So now Killian strode ramrod-straight across the town square, paying no heed to Ruby's calls behind him or the brilliant sunlight that should have been blinding. He just walked.

He just stalked.

A small group began to collect behind him, whispers about Cora, about the Saviour's death passed like candle flames between them.

He just walked.

By the time he reached the Mayor's house, the group was as resolute and furious as he was. Each one had found some sort of weapon to use, and they were filled with vengeful purpose. Three times the knocker clanked, and when the door opened, it was to a small mob of seething fairy-tale characters.

"Regina." Killian bypassed courtesy and stepped into her home.

"What is this all about, Hook? I have things to do, you know." Regina's icy tone implied she hadn't forgotten their last meeting.

"Emma's dead." Regina's face visibly froze, then cracked.

"I didn't-" She protested, distressed and shocked.

"I know. I was there." Killian lost a bit of his fury as he whispered, "She died in my arms." Regina's face warmed a bit in sympathy, then hardened.

"My mother." It wasn't a question. She shrugged on a blazer, wearing it like steel armor.

"Who else." They walked through the group, parting it like waves.

They hunted.

The two leaders brought their disciples to the docks, each striking out in a different direction. Regina and Killian boarded the Jolly Roger.

"Hello Regina, dear." Cora was just waiting there, dressed like the queen she always wanted to be.

"Hello mother." Regina inhaled ice and spit flames.

"I see Captain Jones here has told you the story, then?" Cora gestured demurely at Killian. He tensed.

"Enough of it." Regian's hands became surrounded by an aura of violet-blue fog, and Killian launched himself forward.

Cora twirled away into mist.

"Behind you. Always behind you." Regina muttered, twitching her hand so the purple fog became silver fire.

Killian turned just in time to block Cora from reaching into his chest. Grasping her arm and twisting it so he could grab the other, he forced her back to his chest and caressed her neck with his hook.

"How to kill you, I wonder?" He hissed into her ear. Regina snapped her fingers and Cora froze. She smiled, silver fire still up to her elbow, and plucked Cora's heart from her chest.

"I have some ideas." Regian smiled in a not altogether unfamiliar way.

"How about this one, your Majesty?" Killian asked, spinning himself away from her and unsheathing Charming's sword. Her father's sword. "Remember?"

Regina's smile grew wider, as did Cora's eyes, and he was suddenly reminded of why he was doing this. He remembered Emma's blue eyes, wide with pain and filling rapidly with tears she would never shed. And he swung.

"Off with your head."

Her body fell to the ground in much the same way Emma's had, but Killian dind't catch her.

He didn't honestly see the point.

He could go home now.

Home.

He picked up the sheath to Charming's sword.

He ran. He ran down the docks, ran home, ran to Snow and Charming and Henry. Henry. How could he have left Henry?

He pulled up short outside the apartment door. He could hear muffled sobbing, soft hiccups.

He opened the door. Dropped the sword.

"Henry." His voice broke, and the young boy ran into his arms, fingers curling into his shirt.

"Why? Why is she gone?" Henry sobbed into his chest. "She wasn't supposed to leave! She was supposed to stay with us! The book never said-" Killian just pulled him closer and let himself cry.

"I know, lad. I know." He breathed in. "I know."

He breathed out.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

He had to remind himself to breathe, standing in the Crocodile's den, watching him touch Emma. It made him want to destroy something, any one of these useless magic objects would do. They couldn't help her, so they didn't matter.

Snow looked stoic and emotionless. Charming looked dead inside. Henry wasn't there, was with Regina for the afternoon. He was so young, really, and seeing his mother's dead body once had been enough.

More than enough.

Killian tensed whenever Gold was in the same room. He had lost all motivation for revenge when he had come home to Henry crying over his mother. He had long since let go of his love for Milah, and the boy was as much his as Emma's. He couldn't leave Henry. Not for anything.

The funeral was crippling. Ruby collapsed halfway through, and Snow was barely conscious enough to hold her up.

Henry stood stock-still and only move when Killian led him away. Regina had the oddest expression on her face, like she was mourning the loss of a friend as much as a worthy enemy.

He stepped forward, doing his best not to break.

They had woven daisies into her hair.

She had told him once, after he had surprised her with a bouquet of Dahlias, that she absolutely hated roses and that it was kind of him not to give her any.

He found out later that daisies were her favorite flower.

He placed a single, delicate, dahlia bloom between her hands.

"I know they're not your favorite, but maybe you'll remember me if I leave you a reminder, eh lass?" He chuckled sadly, tucking a stray curl behind her ear.  
"I'll miss you, Em." 


	4. Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

It was Christmas Eve, Killian remembered. He had walked into Granny's, and promptly walked out once he saw the tree. Snowflakes falling one-by-one, floating peacefully onto his eyelashes. He could hear the merriment inside Granny's, wafting like cinnamon and chocolate and hope on the wind. Somehow he couldn't bring himself to step back inside, though. It was his first Christmas in Storybrooke without Emma.

The grief hit him at the strangest times, the strangest reminders. And he just couldn't get over the fact that even now, four weeks after her death, he would wake up and she wouldn't be lying beside him. He'd reach over to her pillow and smell the ever-present cinnamon that wafted around her like perfume, and it would just hurt to know that one day he wouldn't smell it.

He still couldn't walk past the Sheriff's office and not pause, wonder for a second if he should surprise her with lunch, then remember with crushing defeat that she wasn't there to surprise.

"Merry Christmas, Killian!" Ruby laughed, walking sloppily (and waving even more sloppily) away with a man. She was giggling and drunk and too damn happy for his liking. He sighed and let it go.

He didn't honestly have the energy to care.

He peeled himself away from the frosty wooden doorway supporting him and slogged through the remaining foot of snow covering the sidewalks.

When he tripped on a hidden crack in the pavement, he just rolled over and stared up at the fog-clouded sky.

The snowflakes kept drifting in the wind. The laughter continued inside the bar. He didn't feel the cold.

~*/~*/~*/~

"Do you need some help?" The voice of the Mayor startled Killian out of his depression. He blinked warily up at the shadow obscuring what little light leaked through the silver clouds.

"No." Killian closed his eyes again, clasping his hands comfortably above his solar plexus.

"No. But you do need to talk." Regina's shoes scratched against the asphalt.

"Why would I need to do that?" Killian asked wearily.

"I did, when my true love died." His eyes snapped open.

"Your-?" Regina nodded, hand outstretched.

"I need it as much as you do," She stated grimly. "And you need it a lot."

He took her hand.

~*/~*/~*/~

Later, over coffee and some weird breakfast Regina explained as being 'cereal', Killian discovered that he did, indeed feel a burning compulsion to talk to Regina, who felt a complete and utter need to respond in kind.

He felt energized, more alive than he had since Emma's death. He felt guilty for it.

He saw Rumplestiltskin walk into the diner and felt weariness and blank, gray weight crash down upon him again.

He should want revenge for Milah. He should want revenge for Emma, because he had no doubt that the Crocodile had had something to do with Cora's arrival in Storybrooke.

All he felt was pain and emptiness and a strange, familiar ache in his chest.

If his Crocodile walked right up to him right now and asked to be killed, Killian didn't know if he could muster the strength to lift a blade.

Well, he supposed he would find out, because Rumplestiltskin was indeed staring at him. The Crocodile made a move as though to walk towards him, but was pulled back by the petite redhead, the one Killian had backhanded in a jail cell. He still felt a bit guilty for that.

What was her name- Belle, he remembered, seemed to exert an extraordinary force upon Rumple. She held him back with a few words and a gentle hand. Killian found himself absently likening her to Emma in the way she stood between the two of them.

He hated her for a second, hated that Rumplestiltskin was able to have his True Love, while Killian was robbed twice over.

Then he lost the will to hate her and merely felt indifference.

Regina's curious stare fell like a shadow at his back as he asked for a drink.

The shot of whiskey burned down his throat like seawater and time.

He didn't get drunk.

He didn't feel anything.

He didn't leave their bed the next morning, just lay there smelling cinnamon and crying.

He missed Emma.

A/N: I'm so sorry if this made you sad and/or depressed, and that it's so short...


	5. Ocean Light

A/N: OKay. I will put you through absolute Hell in this chapter. Tissues ready? Proceed.

"Dad? Hey, dad." Henry jogged up to catch up with Killian.

Killian smiled tiredly. Henry had taken to calling him 'Dad' in the last few days. He still wasn't entirely used to it, but he rather liked the idea.

"Henry." The two continued walking down to the docks, which had quite quickly become a habit for Killina. He liked watching the ships leave. Liked imagining Emma was on one, just sailing far away, soon to be back.

She wasn't, of course. He knew that.

He knew it well.

"Do you think she's happy? Wherever she is?" Henry asked, swinging his legs off the edge of the dock.

"Your mum?" Killian squinted into the distance. "I don't know."

"But just try. Think. Do you think she's happy?" Henry seemed genuinely concerned about this.

"Maybe. Not likely since you're not with her, though." Henry looked up at him, quietly surprised.

"Without you, too." He said earnestly. "She wouldn't be happy if you weren't there, either." Killian smiled wearily and ruffled Henry's hair.

"Nor I without her."

~*/~*/~*/~

"What is it with you and Henry?" The waitress at Granny's had flirted with Killian before, but after she had stopped he hadn't expected any interaction, honestly.

"What do you mean?" Killian asked, intrigued by the question.

"Well, Emma clearly hates you. But you Henry are like best friends. Thick as thieves, you two." Killian smirked at the expression.

"Sheriff Swan doesn't hate me. She hides her attraction with sarcasm and hostility, true. But she doesn't hate me." He chuckled. "And as for Henry and I, 'thick as thieves' is quite an accurate description."

"Meaning what?" Ruby asked, leaning closer over the bar.

"Meaning he's corrupting my child." Emma said, swooping in to steal his drink. She downed his scotch in one go, slamming the glass down in front of him and looking very formidable.

"You do know that that means we've just kissed by proxy, right?" Killian smirked, leaning back against the bar. Emma's eyes narrowed and she leaned closer to him. "I mean, we can definitely kiss without the proxy, that's fine with me..." He smirked.

"Shut up." Emma said heatlessly, smacking him across the back of the head easily.

"Do you really want me to, though?" Killian was smirking away.

"Yes." Emma collected her coffee and left quickly. Killian admired her... assets on her way out.

She turned.

"Don't even, Hook."

He laughed.

~*/~*/~*/~

Killian quietly tucked Henry into bed. At first it had been a bit of a challenge with his hook, but after the second week he had found a method that suited him.

"Goodnight dad." Henry murmured into his pillow. Killian smiled and ran his hand over the boy's hair.

"Goodnight Henry."

Turning to walk away, he found himself facing Emma.

She was dressed in blue, he registered. A startling teal dress that floated about her in waves of oceanic light. He reached for her, face twisting into a painful expression.

He blinked and she was gone.

He let his hand drop abruptly.

"Right then." Killian stalked out to the kitchen and poured himself a liberal amount of whiskey.

Setting himself down to drink it, he inhaled, exhaled, inhaled slowly.

Calmed, he took a sip of whiskey, leaned back, and set about trying to convince himself it was nothing.

A soft hand carded through his hair, gentle and kind and loving and he could almost convince himself it was real. He opened his eyes and saw Emma smiling serenely down at him, hands still stroking through his hair. Her smile widened and one hand caressed his cheek.

He closed his eyes and set down the whiskey. Let his head fall back into her lap. Stayed there.

He spent the whole night pretending she was really watching over him, that this wasn't some cruel illusion.

Woke up in the morning with tears on his face because it was.

A/N: I did warn you.


	6. Daisies Revisited

A/N: I've had this planned out for a while. It's going to hurt. A lot.

"Come on, Henry." Killian called, using his hook to hang up a frying pan. "We've got to meet Regina and your grandad."

"I'm coming, I'm coming." Henry ran through the hall. "Okay, we can go now?" He skidded to a stop in the kitchen. Killian chuckled.

"Yes, we can go now."

"Kay then." Henry dashed through the door. Killian followed, locking the door after him (it was second nature, now).

~*~/~*~

Regina was halfway into telling him about the time Daniel had given her a river for her birthday (actually very sweet, as stories go.) when she broke off.

"Something happened." She said suddenly. "What?"

"I-" Killian couldn't bring himself to tell her. The mirages he had been seeing- Emma- they, (she) was his. This was all he had of her. He couldn't let that go.

"Nothing happened." He finally said. "Nothing."

~*~/~*~

"He's grieving, Rumple." Belle said reasonably. "His True Love just died, he's no danger to anyone but himself."

"He's a danger to everyone. I've seen this man grieve before, and it wasn't pretty. He could end up killing you, Belle. Or me, or Henry or anyone in this town!" Gold was shouting, as worried as he was angry.

"And what about you?" Belle shouted back, a sudden burst of fury coming and leaving with one sentence. "What did you do when you believed me dead?" She whispered, falling back into a chair.

"I-" His mouth seemed to stop working while his mind went into overdrive.

"Did you not grieve?" Belle asked, sniffling.

"I died when you did." He whispered softly. She gave him a sad, teary smile and asked,

"Then why did you never think he might have done the same?"

~*~/~*~

Striding through Grannys', at that very moment, was Mr. Gold. Killian didn't have the strength to care. Unfortunately, the Crocodile did.

"I'd like to speak to you." Gold's voice was gentler than Killian had expected. Regina stiffened, and her mouth flattened into a severe and disapproving line.

"What for?" Killian asked wearily. Gold visibly flinched. It had obviously never struck him just how drained Emma's death had left Killian.

"Sheriff Swan left something in my shop." Killian tensed, bracing himself for whatever was coming. "I thought you might want it back." The last words barely a whisper.

Killian nodded, swallowing back tears and standing. Gold led him over to the bar. Gold opened his mouth as though to say something. He thought better of it and lay Emma's swan pendant on the counter, reverent and respectful.

It was twisted, mangled beyond all repair, as though placed flat on a very hot surface and then suddenly shot through from below. Killian could only surmise this was from Cora's final attack on Emma.

~*~/~*~

"Somebody gave this to me, you know." Emma began, fingers going up to grasp the swan hanging about her neck. Killian sat up in her bed, leaning over her.

"A swan? How cheesy is that?" Killian chuckled, playing fondly with the pendant.

"Actually, it used to be a key chain." She grinned, snatching it back from his fingers.

"Ah. Very romantic." He nodded. She hit him loosely on the shoulder, face growing more serious. "What?" He asked, deeply concerned.

"The guy who gave it to me..." Emma struggled with the words a bit.

"He's the one who betrayed you?" Killian's jaw tightened, and Emma was momentarily startled at the sudden flash of fury on his face.

"yes." She said quietly, hands reaching up on either side of his face.

"Why-" He began, before she cut in.

"Do I still wear it?" Emma let out a small, regretful chuckle. "To remind me. I remind myself every day. That trusting people isn't smart. Love won't last." She paused. "That everybody will eventually leave me behind." Killian's eyes never wavered, boring into hers like twin blue stars.

"I will never leave you." he promised, dead serious and calm.

"That was sort of what I was getting at," She smiled, kissing the tip of his nose, "I was going to say those rules didn't apply to you."

"I'm glad." He kissed her full on the mouth.

~*~/~*~

Killian swallowed, and, one tear streaking down his face, reached out and took the pendant.

~*~/~*~

"Killian." Charming's voice behind him snapped Killian out of his lapse.

"David. Er, Charming. Er," Killian was still lost in thought, but David smiled wearily, understandingly.

"David's fine." Killian realized that David looked hellish. Thhe bags under his eyes were darker, and the paleness of his skin more pronounced. (He had seen Snow last night, and while her pale skin was legendary, he had never seen her skin quite as grey as it currently was.)

"Shall I be taking Henry, then?" He straightened up, loopig the necklace around his hook. David nodded, clapping Henry's shoulder even as his gaze caught on his daughter's necklace.

"Grandma and I got some daisies for mom." Henry proffered them, looking earnest and apprehensive, as though Killian would deny the boy a visit to his mother's grave.

"Let's go to her grave then, lad." Killian gave the boy a half-smile.

When they got there, a blur of darkness was already standing on the hill, placing white roses on Emma's grave. Drawing closer, Killian (hand placed protectively around Henry's shoulders) and Henry found it was August, the stubbled, leather-clad writer who (or so Killian had been told) had apparently swept into Storybrooke on a lie and a wisp of gasoline.

Killian hated him.

~*~/~*~

"He just left you there?! On the side of the road?!" Killian asked disbelieving, leaning incredulously on the edge of a table.

"Well, he took me to an orphanage first." Emma added, taking a sip of water.

"I hate him." Killian spat, looking more and more like a one-handed, disgruntled cat.

"Yes, well. Just don't kill him on sight, okay? You'll have to meet him eventually." Emma lectured.

"I really don't." He snorted.

~*~/~*~

Killian punched him. Hit him clear hard in the face, knuckles leaving a nasty streak of bruising and blood up the left side of his face.

Henry raised an eyebrow, deadpan.

"What the hell?" August spluttered, hand coming up to rest on his damaged cheek.

"For Emma," Killian spat through grit teeth. August took in the hook and face and after a second seemed to realize who he was.

"You're her...?" He seemed aghast, incredulous. Hurt.

"I was." He stalked past August and picked up the roses, beckoning Henry to replace them with his daisies.

August stood for a moment, watching Henry and Killian place daisies on her grave, carefully arranging them so they wouldn't die. He nods quietly to himself. Leaves.

Killian looked over his shoulder, half ready to shoo August away.

But he'd already gone, and when he looked back, Emma was kneeling next to Henry, smelling the daisies with a sweet smile and quirk of her eyebrow.

Killian blinked, and she was gone again. He wasn't sure if he was glad.

~*~/~*~

Henry wakes up screaming and Killian sprints down the hallway.

"Dad?" The first word out of Henry's mouth is that, and Killian sort of freezes up. But this is his son now. This is Emma's son. And he will be damned if he doesn't do this one thing right.

"Yes, lad." Killian brushes Henry's hair out of his eyes. "I'm here."

Killian somehow ended up in a chair next to Henry's bed, watching over him with a scrutiny he'd never applied to anything except revenge and Emma.

Which is why her sudden appearance threw him off. Emma was still dressed in brilliant aquatic teal, radiating a soft wave of peace of mind.

A wave that no longer seemed to apply to Killian, however, because the moment she appeared, he lurched forward, hook looping around and grasping her wrist.

"Please." He begged. "Please leave."

She smiled back at him.

His hook fell through her arm and nearly landed on Henry's leg.

~*~/~*~

"He'll like me." Killian boasted, throwing his arms out. "Kids always do."

"How can you be sure?" Cora asked, narrowing her eyes.

"His mother did. Until I said- Well, anyway, he will." Hook scratched his neck sheepishly with his hook.

"Mm." Cora replied.

"Wha- Oh now that's just unfair! End the whole argument without me!" Hook shouted after his disappeared ally.

"Who're you talking to?" A young voice from behind him called. Hook, turning, saw the young boy he had come to know from afar as the Sheriff's son. Henry, or something.

"Erm. Nobody, anymore, I suppose." Killian replied, a bit surprised by the boy's precocious air.

"Yeah. 'Cuz she's an evil witch who disappears. I know." Killian found himself smirking, already finding himself fond of this candid kid who was so much like his mother.

"I'm Killian Jones." He stretched out his good hand.

"Nope. You're Captain Hook. My mom told me about you." Henry smiled wickedly.

"She talked about me, then?" Killian perked up, a wide, sly smile painting itself across his face.

"Yep. I think she kind of has a thing for you. I'm Henry, by the way." They shook hands.

~*~/~*~

A/N: So. Yep. Pain. And foregone conclusions.


	7. Loneliness and Potato Soup

A/N: Many thanks to TC for the sad music.

Killian woke up late, sunlight drifting motes of dust over his face. Henry was already gone, and he assumed David or Snow must have gotten him to school.

He stretched, blinking away the sleep still in his eyes. Without Henry home, he didn't have much to do. He was a lost boy, stuck in a painful world where lost boys were forced to grow up. He looked out the window, where he had hung the tangled and torn swan pendant.

A hole in the glass, a hole in her chest, a hole in his world. Killian was frozen in time. Then, with a backfiring car outside, he wasn't.

He dropped his arms and threw on his coat, swirling out the door.

~*/~*/~*/~

The trip down to the docks was harder this time, without Henry, without Emma. He was retracing those fateful steps down to the ship still anchored next to him. He still couldn't bring himself to step aboard, couldn't bring himself to sweep away the ashes that used to be Emma's heart. He was beginning to see why people killed themselves after their loved ones died.

He looked through the blinding sun and saw Emma, wreathed in ocean light. He blinked, wishing it away.

He took step after step, saltwater filling the air in much the same way it had so many years ago, the last time he treaded wooden boards in mourning.

Only this was his ship, docked and broken and the ocean a forbidden land. There was nowhere for him to escape to this time. Emma was waiting at the end of the dock.

There was nowhere for a Lost boy to lose himself.

~*/~*/~*/~

"Captain?"

It was the first time he'd been on his ship since Emma died. Even now, she floated serenely up the gangplank, drifting like the early-morning dust motes. He flinched on sight.

"Captain?" His first mate was seriously concerned, bending over Killian, who was kneeling on the deck.

"Quiet." Killian asked, looking back down at the wood.

There was silver ash spread over the deck, finer than talcum powder and softer than silk. He nearly gagged.

Emma's heart was reduced to stardust and it was blowing all over his ship.

"Why didn't you clean this?" His voice trembled, but the crew pretended not to notice.

"We know what it is, Sir." His first mate replied, looking queasy. "We thought you might want to do that yourself." Ah. So they were being kind. Killian nodded absently, running silver dust between his fingers over and over.

~*/~*/~*/~

The crew had dispersed after he told them to. His first mate had pressed a tiny glass bottle, smaller than his little finger, into his palm. Killian knew what it was for.

He brushed a measure of stardust into the bottle, throwing the rest to the wind and ocean.

"You're free, aren't you?" He whispered.

"Lucky me." Emma smiled, leaning over the railing.

"Stop it." Killian hissed, turning away.

"Never." Emma grinned wickedly, running her fingers through his hair.

~*/~*/~*/~

"Killian!" Emma called down the stairs, taking out her earrings in front of her mirror. She was worried. He had been... different lately. Whatever sort of truth spell Regina had cast over him, it had left him jittery and nervous, and very un-Hook.

"Yes?"  
Emma winced at the crashing sound from downstairs.

"You can't leave in this rain." Killian winced and tried putting the teakettle back into the cabinet. He failed.

"Erm, thanks, love, but I really must go." Emma raised her eyebrows, turning around to peek down the stairs.

"Wouldn't have expected you to turn that offer down." She called.

"Erm, well I-" Emma's eyebrows met ehr hairline as she walked in on Hook surrounded by pots and pans from the kitchen and clutching a metal teakettle as though his life depended on it.

"Um, what?" Killian's eyes were as big as his ego.

"I broke your teapot." He held it up meekly, showing her the plastic lid in his hand.

"No you didn't. And why are you so nervous?" Emma snatched the kettle, shoving pots and pans into the cabinet haphazardly.

"I don't actually want to be alone." Hook mumbled, looking down at his feet.

"Yeah. I offered to let you stay five minutes ago." Emma said, shrugging.

"Oh." Hook swallowed and refused to look up.

"Here, c'mon." Emma reached out a hand, beckoning him impatiently when he didn't immediately take it.

"But I-"

"Come." Emma pulled him up. "Now."

~*/~*/~*/~

"Am I supposed to be here?" Emma just rolled her eyes.

"Hook..." She paused, because calling him Hook seemed entirely wrong right now.

"Killian." She reached out a hand. "Try a little thing called trust."

He took it.

~*/~*/~*/~

Emma woke up at midnight with Killian's arms locked around her waist. The curved side of his hook was digging (not entirely uncomfortably) into her ribs and his legs were tangled irretrievably with hers.

It was awkward, but nice. After a few seconds of initial and expected struggling, she soon settled in and wrapped her fingers around his hook and remaining hand.

She wasn't alone anymore.

~*/~*/~*/~

"You called me Killian." Not exactly what she expected first thing in the morning, but she was glad to find Hook was back to normal. It was kind of unnerving to see him so much not himself.

"I did." Emma threw off the sheets and stood, making her way towards the window where he stood.

"Why?" His voice was hard, sharp around the edges, but his muscles were relaxed, his body still. He felt safe here, whether he wanted to or not.

"You're not alone anymore." She said softly.

"Say it again." He said suddenly. In other circumstances it might have been a demand, but here and now it was a plea. A need to hear somebody calling him by his real name, to affirm he still existed, that he mattered to somebody.

That he wasn't alone.

"Killian." She smiled, taking his face between her hands and kssing him softly.

~*/~*/~*/~

Killian stared into the ghost's eyes and saw nothing of Emma there.

"Captain?" His first mate asked, watching perplexed as Killian stalked past him. Emma just smiled and turned, leaning back against the railing.

"Can you sail this ship?" Killian bit out, utrning back to look at the man.

"Well, yes Captain, we can." He looked bemused.

"No. You." He pointed at the man, "Can you sail this ship."

"Yes Captain." The man replied, much steadier this time.

"Then it's yours." Killian said, voice sharp and shoulders tense. He looked a tap away from shattering.

"Goodbye Captain." He heard. "And good luck."

Killian gave a nod and walked down the gangplank.

He was alone again.

~*/~*/~*/~

Killian had gone home to find Henry and Snow peeling potatoes and was then summarily told to get David from the Sheriff's station and bring him home.

He didn't argue.

But when he took his first steps into the Sheriff's office for the first time since before Emma died he realized that maybe he'd had too much for one day.

"David?" Killian called.

Ah. He had fallen asleep. Killian paused, standing over the man asleep in his chair.

Well, not his chair. His daughter's. Killian put a hand on David's shoulder and shook him gently.

"David." Killian urged him. "Wake up now, come on."

"Killian. Sorry. What time is it?" David cleared hsi throat and began rifling through papaers.

"About half eight."

"Snow sent you?" David managed a half-smile, but it was a flicker of ash and weariness.

"Yeah. Potato soup for dinner." Killian faked a smile, and he was sure it came out nonchalant because David flinched. "I'll grab your coat." He added, turning.

"You're allowed to grieve, you know." David said softly. Killian froze, smile disappearing even though his face was turned away.

"No I'm not." Killian said. "They still don't believe I lov- care- cared for her." He swallowed, turning around with smile back in place.

"She was your True Love." David said firmly, buttoning his coat. "Anyone who says otherwise can take it up with me." David gave him a flicker of a smirk. "And I won't be kind."

A/N: Yeah. So. Um, that's about it. Chapter, what, 6?


	8. Firsts and Lasts part 1: Handcuffs

A/N: I apologize. To everyone.

Killian noticed after his talk with David that people were eying him suspiciously. More often rather than less, they looked angry, upset that their precious saviour, their lost princess ahd wasted her last moments in his arms.

Upset that she had spent any time there at all.

He didn't tell David, because, of course, what could he do, really? The puppet, August, was no help, sporting the traces of their encounter for weeks afterward. Killian soon realized that the line across his cheekbone would never fade, and he assumed that when the puppet did the same there'd be a fight coming.

He wasn't worried.

~*/~*/~*/~

"What, you kissed me and now you're just going to go kill Rumplestiltskin?" Emma shouted desperately after him, and Killian almost turned around. Because he remembered the last time she had called after him. He remembered her chaining him up in a giant's lair and the fear in her eyes as he blocked her sword. He remembered that she'd been abandoned too many times already. "Are you even planning to come back and unlock me?!" She cried, angry and bitter and hurt.

And he wanted to turn around. He did. More than he wanted his vengeance, he wanted to turn around and tell this beautiful broken woman that she mattered to him, that he wouldn't abandon her.

But she was never his to abandon.

"Hook!" She called, and he could see tears in her eyes on the edge of his vision, because she fucking well cared about him, didn't she?

"I'm not expecting to come back, honestly." He said, a breath before the storm.

"Hook!" She cried, pulling at the handcuffs with a terrible, desperate ferocity that left him with a sunken heart and her with bleeding wrists.

He pretended he couldn't hear her over his footsteps.

It almost worked.

~/*/~*/~*/~

Killian was on his way to Henry's school when Belle reached out and drew him into the library.

"What are you- What?" He was disoriented and a lot more acquiescing than he should have been. If she had been someone else, he might have been in a very bad situation very quickly...

"Hello." Belle smiled apologetically, "Did I startle you?"

"Uh, a bit." Killian smiled back awkwardly, still embarrassed over the fact that he'd once lied to her and left her in a cell.

"I just..." Belle turned, pushing hair behind her ear, searching in the piles of books for one particular volume. "I wanted to give you something." She held up a dog-eared tome embossed with the words 'Peter Pan'.

"Thank you." He said, taking it gingerly. "But, er, why?" Belle smiled ruefully.

"Ah, i just thought you would know, sorry. You're in it." Killian looked, perplexed at the book.

"I've never met Peter Pan." He said, deeply offended by the topic.

"Well, I thought you might like to read it." She laughed. He nodded, cracking a small (but honest) smile at her efforts at peacekeeping.

"Thank you." He said, more honestly this time. "Thank you.

He was thanking her for more than the book somehow. She smiled like she knew, and the kiss she placed on his cheek stung, a spark of painful memory in the place where Emma had left a lovely gift teh day she died.

He kept smiling and it nearly destroyed him.

~*/~*/~*/~

"Hook!" Emma said, shocked, clutching the huge amounts of paper in her hands closer to her chest. "What are you doing here. What are you- Here. I just- what." Killian smirked, nimbly taking a stack of papers from her arms.

"Well, that is an entirely too long story to tell now, so perhaps we should leave it til later, love?" He dodged her attempts to take the papers back.

"Those are important, give them back Hook!" SHe burst out, weaving this way and that to try and reach them as he held them high above her.

"I have several advantages, lass, one of which just happens to be height." He stood on his toes, coat leaning forward as he did. She nearly stopped breathing when her chin ended up resting on his collar bone.

She jerked back as though he were made of fire.

"Give them back, Hook. Than I can lock you in a cell and leave you there," she hissed.

"Oh, just like last time then." His smirk faded. She drew in a breath, as though she were hurt by the reminder.

"Give. It. Back." She reached for the papers and snatched them back this time. "You deserved it."

"I didn't, actually." He whispered, blocking her way.

"Move, please." She breathed, face far closer to his than she would like. He leaned in closer.

"No." He whispered, pressing his lips to hers. She let out a painful breath.

This was gentle. Not at all what she expected. He seemed to force every ounce of care into the kiss, hand stroking through her hair, hook arching comfortingly around her waist.

He was kissing her like it was his last day on earth, she realized with a start.

Like he loved her.

The papers fell to the ground as her hands went to the sides of his neck. She stepped forward, coming together like a broken mirror. He inhaled, drawing a breath from her lungs, pushing her back until she hit the wall. She reached farther up, tangling her hands in his hair and crushing their mouths together. He grasped her hands in his one good hand, his hook cirling her wrist as he drew them downa nd behind her back.

And then he stepped away.

He went from holding like she was the most precious thing in his world to staring at her like he didn't know her. She tried to follow him but felt resistance. It was either a testament to his kissing or her stupidity that it took her so long to realize he had cufferd her to the desk.

"I should go." He said slowly. Emma drew in a breath and yanked at the cuffs.

"Why now?" She asked, already resigned to the fact that one more person was abandoning her, already resigned to the fact that the whole thing had been a ruse.

"I need to take my vengeance." He said stiffly, no emotion in his voice.

"What? You kiss me and then say you need to kill Rumplestiltskin? Hook!" He was already walking away.

"Hook!"

~*/~*/~*/~

"Hook. Imagine seeing you here." Regina sneered, crossing her arms and lookng him up and down. He smirked back, brandishing his hook threateningly.

"Your highness. I'm afraid I have a prior commitment so if we could just reschedule this little chat of ours...?"

"Not gonna happen." Regina countered. Hook opened his mouth to ask what she meant, but before he could, a burst of golden-violet light erupted from her hands, spreading from his hook and fingers to his eyes and legs and heart.

And he forgot what he was going to ask.

And what he was doing here.

And who Emma Swan was.

TBC. Part one of two.


	9. Firsts and Lasts part 2: Curses

A/N: ALL PRAISE THE TCHAIKOVSKY FOR SWAN LAKE. Also, this chapter is allll flashback, so I'd like to know what you think of that.

"Coming through," Regina called, escorting Hook through a hall of harried nurses. The hospital was crowded tonight, as though a storm brewing on the horizon had alerted them to some previously unknown danger.

"Mayor Mills." Whale raised his eyebrows sarcastically. "Didn't expect to see you tonight. And, er, who is this?" He gestured ineffectually towards Hook, who was spinning in circles muttering 'Bombalast'.

This." Regina reined Hook in, "Is Captain Hook." Whale raised his eyebrows, unimpressed. "He's been hit with a memory hex." she added. Whale nodded thoughtfully.

"Gee, I wonder who by?" He asked wryly. Regina smiled mockingly at him.

"Whatever. Just make sure the Sheriff doesn't see him." She stalked off, heels clacking like thunder.

~*/~*/~*/~

"Sheriff Swan?" Whale looked surreptitiously over his shoulder, "Yes. There's a man here. A man with a hook hand. I thought you might want to know." He grinned. "Regina brought him in."

~*/~*/~*/~

"David! Oh thank god." Emma nearly collapsed in relief, leaning tiredly against her desk.

"Um, Emma, why are you handcuffed to your desk?" David knelt down, quickly unlocking the cuffs.

"Long story." She said breathlessly, rubbing at her wrists, now dark with half-dried blood.

"What happened?" David asked, fussing angrily over her wounds.

"Like I said," She sighed, remembering a kiss and a beanstalk. "It's a long story."

~*/~*/~*/~

"Hook?" Emma swept into the hospital, her eternal confidence shielding the trembling flame of hope in her heart. Hook hadn't gone after Gold. He was alive. he hadn't gotten himself killed.

He had kissed her.

"I'm sorry, but who the hell are you?" Hook glared at her. Emma stopped dead, a bright, flickering pain drawn up from the depths of a neglected little girl who had to climb the tallest trees and jump the farthest and talk the loudest because otherwise nobody would ever talk to her. Emma swallowed, blinking away the childish tears that threatened her now.

"I'm Sheriff Emma Swan, and we've met before." She grinned widely, completely without humor... and handcuffed him to the hospital bed.

"What the hell?" Hook tugged fiercely at the metal bracelets binding him to the cot.

"You deserved it," She smirked, masking anger and pain with a sense of familiarity.

"What? I did not." Hook said, affronted.

"You so did." Emma scoffed.

"Did not." Hook pulled harder at the cuffs.

"Anyway." She said, unlocking the cuffs and locking his hands behind his back. "You're coming home with me."

"Hate to decline, love, but I've a commitment to meet." He laughed, smirking widely as she shoved him into her car.

"Yeah. You have an appointment." She swung into the front seat, slamming her door. "With me."

~*/~*/~*/~

Henry was persistent in seeing the pirate, explaining to his mother that he had befriended the man when he had forst come to town, several weeks ago. Only once she had Hook tied tightly to a chair did she let Hery near him, though.

"Killian?" Henry asked, at first excited, then, as his friend didn't answer, disappointed. "DO you not remember?" he asked.

"I have no bloody clue what you're talking about." Hook laughed, as Emma snatched Henry away.

"Watch your language around my son." She hissed.

"What are you going to do, lass? Leave me here?"

"Maybe." She said evenly, tossing a rubber ball at the floor and catching it effortlessly. "I have nothing but time, Hook."

"And you're using it up on me, how charming." He rolled his eyes, growing tired of their little game.

"I'm wasting it on you." She caught the ball again. "SO be grateful." She smiled, throwing the ball at such an angle it hit him in the back of the head.

~*/~*/~*/~

"Okay then, Madam Mayor." Emma walked past the other people in the room and, bypassing courtesy, stood right in front of Regina, arms crossed and legs steady. "What the hell did you do to him?"

"I didn't do anything." Regina smirked.

"Right. Like you aren't the EVil Queen, and Henry's insane." Emma said, rolling her eyes. "I know you did it, now all I want is for you to fix it."

"Fix it? Honestly Miss Swan, that's your job, isn't it?" Regina smiled.

"It's Sheriff Swan, and I have no idea what you mean." Emma turned to walk away, a whisper lingering in her mind.

"Oh, and speaking of Henry, is it really a good idea to have a murderous pirate so near to him?" Regina called after her. Emma froze, tense.

"Two days." Emma said through gritted teeth. "You get two days with Henry."

~*/~*/~*/~

"How far back do you remember?" Emma asked, leaning against the doorway.

"Er, I don't know. Rumplestiltskin took my hand and then... Nothing." He shrugged, fake nonchalance seeping through every line of his being. Emma, meanwhile, was having deep trouble with the gap in his memory.

"300 years." She breathed in disbelief. "You've forgotten three hundred years." She scoffed, a small broken sound. "You've forgotten me."

"I don't see why you'd matter to me in the first place, honestly." He smirked up at her and she felt possessed with a vicious need to smash his head in with something.

"Hm." She laughed, wide, merciless grin appearing slowly.

She handcuffed him to her bed.

"This seems familiar," He laughed, struggling against the handcuffs. "You leaving me chained to something, it seems familiar."

She gave a short, humorless laugh.

"It should."

~*/~*/~*/~

"Gold!" Emma called, slamming the bell-dazzled door behind her, hoping to get his attention. "Gold!"

"Yes, Dearie?" He seemed smug, pleased to see her.

"Hook. His memory." Emma cut to the chase. "How do I fix it?"

"Why would I tell you?" Gold smiled slyly.

"Because right now all he wants is revenge. WIth his memories he's begun to move on." Emma was begging now, pleading a little. "Please."

"True love's kiss breaks all curses, dearie." he muttered, just loud enough for her to hear.

"Why would that matter? What does it have to do with anything?" Emma asked, still impatient and angry and not quite catching on yet.

"Figure it out!" Gold ushered her out of his shop.

~*/~*/~*/~

Emma sighed, slamming her car door. It didn't help the poor car, but it did make her feel somewhat better. Not enough to matter, though. She banged her head down on the steering wheel, gold-silver hair falling over her eyes.

"That's your job isn't it?"

"True love's kiss breaks all curses."

"Shut up." she mumbled, sighing heavily. "You don't get a say in this anymore.

True Love's kiss.

Shit.

Emma's eyes widened, knuckles going white with their grip.

"No..." She whispered.

Great.

She was halfway home when Ruby called her. Emma pulled over, fumbling with her phone for a minute.

"What?" SHe answered, not really in a polite mood now that she'd been so unsubtly pushed into realizing she had just handcuffed her true love to a bed.

"It's Hook." Emma's eyes narrowed as her face creased in confusion.

"Ruby, what-?"

"He's gone to the Sheriff's station, Emma, he was on his way with Gold and Belle when I saw him!"

"That's not possible, I was just talking to Gold." Emma said, attempting to get a level-headed story out of the girl.

"Well I don't know how he did it, do I?" Ruby gasped, hyperventilating into the speaker.

"Thanks Ruby." Emma hung up and gunned it to the Station.

~*/~*/~*/~

When she opened the door, she found Hook holding a remarkably calm, very pretty woman at gunpoint while Gold appeared to be locked into the one cell.

"Hook, drop it!" Emma called, advancing with her won gun raised.

"Why should I?" Hook laughed, a bit maniacally. "What could you possibly do to me?" His whole body shook, fingers trembling around the gun. "What are you even doing here?"

"I'm here to talk about Milah." Hook turned full-on to face her, eyes wide and face ripped open with disbelief and pain.

"How did you know-?" He began, choking on the rest of his sentence.

"You told me." Emma lowered her gun, stepping slowly forward. "You told me how she died, how he ripped her heart out." Belle was visibly shocked by this, spinning to face Gold, who looked ashamed and chagrined. "You told me how she loved her son. How she regretted that loss every day." SHe stepped even further forward, dropping her gun on the ground. "You told me that you loved her. You loved her so much. How she would listen to stories, with her mouth open as though she were drinking or breathing them in. You described her to me, Killian." Emma reached forward, sliding the gun out of his hand. "You told me everything about her."

"Why?" Hook looked as though he was in agony. "Why would I tell you?" Emma smiled.

And then Belle knocked him out from behind.

With a chair.

~*/~*/~*/~

"So." Emma said, walking up behind Regina. "True love's kiss, huh?"

"Yes." Regina sniffed.

"That's going to bring him back to himself?" Emma asked, hesitant but firm.

"He won't remember today, but yes." Regina concluded, "He'll remember everything else."

Emma nodded.

"Didn't go quite as you planned, did it?" Emma asked.

"No." Regina admitted. "it didn't."

They stood there for a few minutes, side-by-side.

The curse-bringer and the saviour.

And then Emma sighed, pushed back her shoulders, and strode into the hospital ward for the second time that day.

~*/~*/~*/~

She sat gingerly on the small stretch of space next to his legs, leaning over himm in a way she never would have if he had been awake, or if anyone else had been watching. But it was late at night, and the only people there were asleep or on-duty, and so Emma felt no shame in letting her walls down just this once.

"Hello." She whispered, brushing a lock of hair from hsi eyes with her fingers. "You didn't miss me, did you?" She smiled ruefully.

"I don't hold out much hope for this," She began in a low voice, almost a whisper and not quite a breath. "But the more i think about it the more it seems to fit. And the more it seems to fall apart." She chuckled. "You're still in love with a woman who was murdered three hundred years ago, and I'm in love with you." She looked around, as though checking for anyone looking on at her secret declaration of love.

"Funny story, huh?" She nodded to herself, drawing her fingers across his cheek, over and over again rhythmically. "Funny." She smiled tightly.

As she leaned down to kiss him, three things crossed her mind. That first of all, if he woke up now, he would probably hate her. Secondly, that she actually wanted to do this, fuck destiny, she loved him. And third, that the palest reach of sunlight eking through the window was a herald of crowds. People occupying the hospital. She'd better do this quickly or not at all.

So she leant down and pressed her lips to his. As far as having one participant went, it was a nice kiss. His mouth was a bit cold and rather chapped and okay, this was kind of stalkerish, but she'd only do it once.

She smiled against his mouth and pulled away, soft echoes of true love flowing out of the ward and through the hospital.

Killian's eyelids flickered, and Emma quickly stood up. Within moments her stony walls were back in place and nobody would ever guess that she had been pouring her heart out a minute ago.

She made it to her car before she started sobbing.

~*/~*/~*/~

A/n: Well. That was interesting. How'd you like the backstory?


	10. New Beginnings

A/N: Yes, there is a timeskip.

Six years later, Killian was waking up. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sighed. Their bed. The same one that, seven years ago, Emma had picked out, tugging the mattress from behind a row of boxes in a second-hand store.

"Morning, love." He murmured to the small vial of stardust between his fingers. He stood, pushing the chain beneath his shirt.

"Dad! We're going to be so late!" Henry jolted down the stairs, simultaneously choking on a piece of toast and tugging on his shoes. Killian shrugged on a coat, clicking his hook into place without any fanfare.

"Well come on then, lad." Killian still walked Henry to school, more of a ritual than out of any real need for safety. Henry was taller now, almost as tall as Killian.

Taller than Emma had been.

"Mr. Jones, might I have a word?" Killian turned at the sound of Gold's voice. Henry bit his lip and looked over at Killian.

"Of course. Go on Henry, bus is waiting." Henry nodded uncertainly and jogged to the bus stop. Killian watched him until he was out of sight before turning back to Gold. "What was it you wanted to talk to me about?"

"I, er, I know you've been helping out at the Sheriff's station, but I wanted to ask..." Gold looked hesitant, but not enough to stop himself, apparently. "I wanted to ask if you'd help me with my shop." Killian felt his eyebrows rising against his own will.

"Why ask me?" Killian replied, not unkindly.

"I need an assistant," Gold said, "and I need..." He sighed, argued with himself, and finished the sentence. "Maybe I need a friend."

Killian stared hard into Gold's eyes for a moment, still mistrusting the crocodile. Then, remembering a swan-shaped pendant and a book, he nodded.

Maybe he needed a friend, too.

~*/~*/~*/~

"Come on!" Emma dragged Killian to the top of the hill, grinning wildly in a way that made him both suspicious and hopeful.

"What are we even doing here, lass?" Killian asked, rubbing his still-sore ribs beneath his jacket. "We're on top of a hill," he complained good-naturedly, "And an empty hill at that."

Emma gave him a small smile and pulled him down on the ground. "Look up." She said in anticipation, pointing skywards.

"Stars?" Killian asked bemusedly, raising an eyebrow. "We're here to look at stars? I used to do that every night on my ship. Just to know where we going."

"Yeah, well, it's called stargazing here and people do it for fun." Emma said firmly, "Like, um, look for the constellations and stuff."

"Constellations?" He looked at her as though afraid for her mental health. "Are you bloody well serious, what the hell's a constellation?" Emma sighed.

"An arrangement of stars and shit just shut up Hook," Emma shoved him in the shoulder a little. "Look for the stars you know, the uh, the ones that help you sail." He nodded, staring widely into the night, tracing invisible patterns with his eyes.

"They're not here," He sighed dejectedly, "Not our world, not our stars, I suppose." Emma bit her lip and looked over at him, but he was still looking up, eyes blank.

"Here, she said, pointing at three bright stars. That's Orion's Belt." Killian tilted his head until the stars made a straight line.

"Who?" He asked curiously.

"Er," She bit her lip. Not like she could say 'I don't know'. "He was a warrior."

"What did he do?" Killian asked. Emma trudged through the dinky sewer part of her mind labeled 'Astronomy'.

"He fought a giant lion," Emma finally came up with, "And fell in love with a beautiful good-hearted witch who enchanted his sword to be invincible," Emma gave up on any sort of accuracy and instead began describing each constellation in turn, "And when Orion died, the witch placed him in the sky, to live forever in the stars."

Killian chuckled. "Stardust in his veins, now." She nodded. "What about that one?" he asked, pointing out the Little Dipper.

"That's the Little Dipper," Emma traced the outline, "It takes the water from the clouds and dumps it out as rain." Killian grinned and reached out quietly and took Emma's hand in his. She looked over at him, at first startled, then, with a small smile she shifted over to lay her head on his shoulder.

"Hello," he whispered.

"Hi," she replied, smile widening. He grinned back; in awe of this second chance he'd been given. She pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, pressing her face back into his shoulder after. His smile was so wide it hurt and his hand stroked through her hair.

He had never been happier.

~*/~*/~*/~

Killian came home that afternoon to find Henry sitting at the kitchen table, impatiently drumming his fingers on the surface.

"Dad!" He shot up from the chair. "So what did Gold want?"

"Mr. Gold asked me if I would help him in his shop," Killian said, pulling off his coat.

"What did you say?" Henry asked, leaning on the other side of the counter.

"I said yes," Killian smirked, "Maybe I should get out of the house more often." He tapped Henry's nose with his hook.

"Giving him a second chance?" Henry asked, batting the hook away from his face nonchalantly.

"I don't believe in second chances," Killian said lowly, "I'm giving him a first chance."

~*/~*/~*/~

Killian's first day working with Gold went fairly well, actually. There were no customers, so Gold had him do inventory, cataloguing the many magical items the Dark One had collected over the centuries.

"What's this?" Killian asked, scribbling some obscure labels down on his clipboard.

"That's powdered dragon skull," Gold said casually, pulling it from Killian's one hand and examining it.

Killian stared at him for a moment, trying to decide whether he was serious or not. "Right," he said eventually, "Dragon's skull. Right."

Gold just raised his eyebrows and turned away.

~*/~*/~*/~

The next day Killian was still working inventory. He had been sifting through a great bucket of sand, trying to see if there was anything in it worth cataloguing, when he came upon a tiny vial of stunningly blue liquid.

"Gold?" He called, standing up. "Gold, what is this?" There was power in that vial, a brilliant, tangible power that radiated from it like sunlight. He could feel the heat of it in his hand.

"Ah. My greatest work," Gold smiled bitterly, "It's created by combining powerful amounts of magic, True Love, and Starlight."

"What does it do?" Killian asked quietly.

"It brings back the ghost of someone dead." Killian swallowed, taking an unconscious step forward.

Emma.

Emma, who he had loved so much and lost so quickly, Emma who had loved him in return, who had been so alive and so strong and who had died in his arms telling him she loved him. Emma, who had left him everything she held dear, who had given him Henry, Snow, David, and the family he'd wanted and never had.

"Why haven't you ever used it then?" He found himself asking, because it wasn't like Gold to leave things like that. Gold sighed.

"To use this potion you need the ashes of their crushed heart." Gold turned it over and over in his fingers, holding it further towards the light, "And even after all that effort, it only brings them back for one day. As nothing more than a shadow." He tapped the vial on the table before setting it down. "Not really worth it to use."

Killian nodded and marked it down on his clipboard.

When Gold wasn't looking he slipped the vial into his pocket.

~*/~*/~*/~

Killian knelt on the deck of the Jolly Roger, hook scraping rivulets of stardust from the cracks between planks of wood. He was methodical, drawing out every bit of the silver powder he could. It made him sick, to know he was sweeping up his true love's heart into a jar. But he knew he wouldn't always feel so, and knowing this he gingerly poured a small measure of silver into the tiny bottle.

But it was finally done. He stood, swallowing back the tears he hadn't thought he wanted to cry. Striding quickly to the edge of the deck he paused.

"Goodbye, love," He whispered, tossing the stardust out over the waves. "You're free now, aren't you?"

~*/~*/~*/~

"Henry!" Killian called, shrugging off his jacket. "Are you alright?" When he didn't get an answer Killian immediately began looking around to see if Henry had collapsed.

What he found was a note on the table.

Dad-  
I MET A GIRL.  
Don't panic, I'll be home at seven.  
If you need me I'll be at the library.  
-Love, Henry.  
P.S.-  
She has no clue I like her. WHAT DO I DO?

Killian chuckled and sat down.

"Well first you get her to tie you to a tree..." Killian laughed to himself.

~*/~*/~*/~

Later that night, lying in bed, Killian ran his fingers over and over the two vials in his hand, and the words "Emma, Emma, Emma" ran through his head.

~*/~*/~*/~

In the dark of Storybrooke, when all were sleeping, or pretending to, a flicker of smoke began to rise from the well in the woods.

And a very tired, very dead woman climbed out.

A/N: Now that my story's developed a plot, things will get interesting. Nothing is as simple as it seems.


	11. Reprise part 1: Revisting

A/N: In which some questions will be answered and more will be asked.

Another day working at Gold's shop, and Killian still couldn't get up the courage to use the tincture. After all Emma had been through, he couldn't bring himself to repay her with a chance to say farewell to her loved ones. He cursed his sudden cowardice a million times.

He laid in bed, in their bed, eyes tracing imaginary patterns in the cracks above him. He could hear Henry above him, imagine him doing his Trigonometry homework on his bed. Killian could imagine many things, among them Henry's reaction to being able to see his mother one last time. To give her a proper goodbye.

And he still couldn't bring himself to use the potion.

Because there was somewhere, deep in the heart of his heart, still that guilt, that deep, burning self-hatred that had festered and boiled and laced his veins with malice for three hundred years. That ever-present screaming doubt that he should save Milah. That he owed her that, if not revenge. That everything she had given him, her love and her heart and her life, that he should repay that with the only chance of bringing someone back to life, however temporarily.

But Emma…He owed Emma just as much. Maybe more. How was he supposed to weigh such very different loves and lives against each other when it came to one final goodbye?

He couldn't.

~*/~*/~*/~

"You okay?" He asked, perching on the edge of her desk in a way she wasn't entirely sure was safe.

"Fine," she said absently, flipping back through release forms for Killian, the now-labeled 'Local Criminal'. "I'm just a bit confused. Since when am I Hook's emergency contact?"

"You're the Sheriff, Emma." David smiled, ruffling a hand through her hair. "One-handed marauding newcomers are your division now."

"Right." Emma sighed, flopping her head down on her arms. "My responsibility. Excuse me for forgetting that I'm now responsible for handless nut jobs with nice lips." David raised his eyebrows and Emma's eyes immediately snapped open.

Shit.

"I said that out loud, didn't I?" Emma mumbled into her sleeve.

"Yes." David nodded, grinning. "I take it you're the one who kissed him into sanity?" Emma snorted.

"Sanity's stretching it a bit, Dad."

"I dunno," David mused, leaning back on his hands. "You could probably do it, if anyone could." Emma looked up, eyes fixed in a curious expression.

"Is that your Dad Voice?" She asked, perturbed.

"My Dad Voice?" David chuckled. Emma straightened

"Yeah, you know, the one dads use when they're proud of their kid?" It doesn't escape his notice the way she says 'dads'. She means other people's dads, because she's never had one, not really. David runs his hand through her hair again, because now she does. She wrinkles her nose but doesn't move from the chair, so he keeps doing it. She falls asleep to her father's bedtime story and his hands running through her hair. Its thirty years too late, but that doesn't matter to her.

Not as much as she thought it might.

~*/~*/~*/~

"Swan! Swan!" Emma remained resolutely forward, not looking back, even though that annoying accent was all she wanted to hear. "Swan, come on, look at me!" He was still jogging like a faithful dog behind her.

"Leave it alone, Hook." She called. They'd been having the same non-conversation for weeks now. He had an inexplicable hunch it had been her who had kissed him. Something about beans. Anyway, he had been following her for weeks, and only now had he finally gotten fed up enough to actually confront her on the matter.

"Never." He tossed back, taking sure, certain steps on the smooth pavement. She made a face and he laughed, pace-for-pace beside her.

"Why are you here?" She asked.

"You know why," He said quietly, looking sideways at her. She shook her head.

"No, I really don't." He sighed and stopped, slipping his hook through her belt loop to make her stay.

"You kissed me." He said flatly. "You kissed me out of that curse."

"I did not." She protested, eyes flickering between his mouth and his eyes. His determination faded and she saw a touch of despair.

"True Love's Kiss," Killian whispered. "I thought..? But no, of course not," he spat out bitterly, releasing her and turning away. This obvious show of crushed hope convinced Emma.

"You really care?" She called after him, hugging herself.

"Care?" He scoffed, turning back, "Care? I bloody well love you, Emma." The world faded away for a moment and when it came back she was kissing him like the world was ending. Killian's hand tangled up in her hair, his hook holding stray curls out of their way. It could have been cold, Emma didn't particularly remember, but all she felt was warmth and shining silver blinding her. She broke away for just a moment, hair in her face and Killian's hand resting on her waist.

"I love you too," she whispered, smiling so widely it hurt.

"Knew you would, love," he replied smugly. She punched his arm and laughed.

He kissed her again.

~*/~*/~*/~

"So." The word dropped like a stone between them.

"So what?" Killian asked, crossing his arms defiantly. Milah rolled her eyes and held the piece of parchment in the air.

"This is what." She was angry. At him. This was new. She'd never been this angry at him before. "Did you really think I wouldn't find out?" Killian made a face, looking away. "Did you think maybe it would matter to me? That just maybe the fact that you're stealing from my hometown might upset me?"

"That's exactly why I didn't tell you!" Killian broke in. "I know you have family there, I know you care about them, but this is the only place we can find it." He was begging now, pleading with her to understand the absolute necessity of his actions. It was a familiar argument, really. She wasn't quite comfortable with some parts of the pirating, and he wasn't sure how to stop.

"Just promise me that nobody dies, Killian." He nodded, wrapping his arms around her and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"Nobody dies."

~*/~*/~*/~

"So you'll be taking a day off then?" Gold huffed, Killian helping him to set down the chest full of, well, gold. Killian nodded, wiping sweat off of his forehead with a dusty hand and leaving a streak.

"Yeah. My crew's back in town for the first time in six years." He looked blankly at the rag and his hand, as though a bit surprised by the dust. He leaned down to inspect the scratches his hook had made in the chest.

"Six years?" Gold asked, retrieving his cane from where it lay on the edge of the counter. "Awfully long time for them to be away without a captain."

"Well, they have a Captain. Fellow named Ridian. He was my first mate." Killian grunted, pushing the chest further towards the wall. "Lovely fellow. Has a thing about bluebirds." With a final shove, the chest was flat against the wall. "There. Job done!" Killian smiled, dust on his forehead and sun on his face.

"Oh. Well this is unexpected." A cool voice broke through the warm atmosphere. "Never thought I'd see you two of all people working together." Gold's eyes looked like two round river stones, flat and lifeless and damp. Killian turned to see who had made the_ Dark One_ look like that.

"Milah." He breathed, dropping the rag in his hand.

"Hello." She grinned. "Fancy seeing you here!"

~*/~*/~*/~

Part one of two.


	12. Reprise part 2: Remembering

"Milah." He breathed, dropping the rag in his hand.

"Hello." She grinned. "Fancy seeing you here!" He stood for a moment, jaw slack and arms hanging uselessly at his sides.

Gold took a few steps backward, mouth working dumbly to try and spit out a few words.

"Milah," repeated Killian softly, taking a step forward. She smiled even more widely, breaking into a sprint as she threw her arms around him. Grinning madly, she pulled back and held his face between her hands.

"You've not aged a day, Killian," she marveled. "How long have I been gone?" Milah's smile faded slowly, her eyes creased in laughter suddenly washing with pain and memories. Killian clutched her even more tightly to his chest.

"Three hundred years," He stated quietly, cautious of the shock on her face. "You died, your heart..." He paused. "How are you here, Milah?"

She shook her head and burrowed into his embrace.

"I don't know," she murmured.

~*/~*/~*/~

A very dark night, she thought, looking up. She'd lost track of years and days, but she could remember moons. Eons and centuries of moons, all shining above her. The blue half-light rippled over her dark curls and pale skin, making her seem ghoulish and hollow.

"Lovely moon," the man next to her said, flat on his back with his hands folded on his stomach. Milah hummed quietly, wrapping her arms about her folded knees and tilting her head back. The man in the cell beside her reached up to press his hand to the glass wall between them. She met it with her own.

"Why are we here?" Milah breathed. "How did I get here?"

The man beside her, turned his head to gaze sadly at her.

"I've no idea," he whispered brokenly, "I've no idea." His fingers stroked against the glass, and she knew that if there was no wall between them they'd be gentle against hers.

"It'll be alright, though, won't it?" She choked out. "We'll be alright?" The man swallowed and sat up, leaning heavily aginst the barrier, every fiber of him pulling towards her.

"Of course it will."

She nods slowly, blinks.

"Of course it will," she repeats. "Of course it will, Graham."

They sit, the runaway and the huntsman, shoulder-to-shoulder against glass, and look at the moon.

They wait.

~*/~*/~*/~

Milah finally pulled away from hugging Killian. She spared Rumplestiltskin a cold glance, looking him over like a long-lost pet.

"Rumple." She nodded stiffly, pursed her lips, and slapped him clear across the face.

"What the hell?" He cried, trying to recover his footing while holding a hand to his cheek.

"You killed me," Milah said offhandedly. "I'd expect you to remember, but really, with you one never knows." She turned away, her dress swaying about her legs.

"I-" Gold seemed caught between denying it and saying something along the lines of "you deserved it".

Killian raised an eyebrow and followed her out the door.

~*/~*/~*/~

"So what's this about you having a new job?" Gretchen asked impishly, tripping along after Milah and Edric. "Thought you were a pirate?"

"Robbery's a career now." Milah explained offhandedly, passing a candle to her brother and kneeling down to light her own. Gretchen eyed a tall oak and began scaling the wide trunk.

"Oh my," Edric laughed, "our dignified sister on the sea?" He shoved her playfully.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" She laughed, shoving him back.

"Don't you ever get seasick?" Gretch asked distantly, scrambling higher and higher in the trees.

"Not where everyone can see," scoffed Milah. "Besides, that went away in the first few weeks."

"Hmmm..." Gretchen hummed from a distance. "I wonder what else went away after the first few weeks..."

"Oh?" Milah raised an eyebrow, scanning the arching bows above her for her younger sister.

"Like, perhaps, your boundaries with our lovely Captain Jones?" Edric teased, smirking at Milah's blush.

"Not really your business, brother dearest," she smirked back, "but Killian's really been quite a gentleman."

"Nice to know what you think of me," Killian laughed from the other end of the clearing, and Milah rolled her eyes.

"Whatever."

"Quite," he smiled, wrapping an arm around her waist and grinning up at the little girl swinging her legs on a tree branch.

Milah sighed.

~*/~*/~*/~

"Just promise me that nobody dies, Killian." He nodded, wrapping his arms around her and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"Nobody dies."

It was a promise he couldn't keep.

Two days after visiting her old home, she had found out what he was planning. He wasn't planning on anybody getting hurt, but sometimes sacrifices had to be made.

Not like this, though.

The smoke bloomed from the windows like a sapling tree, fire devouring straw and wood the same way water ground stone to sand. It spread and spread and spread, and nothing was safe, nothing sacred. The fire ripped apart the church, where even the gods had forsaken them, torn apart homes and families and limb from limb.

It spread until it couldn't, until the woods were blackened knives scraping the sky for some sort of mercy and the bay was clothed in thickening smoke that burned even still in your lungs.

"Nobody dies."

He had broken his promise.

"Gretch?" Milah whispered, "Gretch, you're not- you can't."

She knelt over her sister's trembling body, hair flowing down about their faces and obscuring her tears.  
Her brother was beside her, clinging to her as though she was the last thing he had in the world.

And, Killian supposed, if she hadn't been before, she was now. He stayed back, far away from their grief. It wasn't his right to grieve. It was his fault, he'd freely admit, but he had no place among the remaining few.

"Gretch..." Milah passed a hand over her sister's small face, tracing the raw burns that would never heal, the cuts that would never scar, the wide hole in her neck.

"I-" Killian stepped forward, face twisting in pain for her, but she turned abruptly and the fury in her eyes burned him.

"You did this." She stood. "You killed them."

"I know," he whispered, stepping back. "I'm sorry."

"Just go," she said, voice catching in her throat. "Just go until I can bear the sight of you."

He left.

~*/~*/~*/~

"2100. Park. Bring cake. -KE," the text reads, and Henry can't help smiling. Kate Evans has a notorious sweet tooth, and he's one of the few people willling to indulge her.

He brings cake.

"So anyway, the third ring around Saturn is made up of about twenty-five million million particles of ice," she explained, nibbling on a slice of cake.

"Really?" Henry raised an eyebrow and Kate smiled.

"No. I just wanted to sound smart," she laughs it off.

"You are smart," Henry replied, staring single-mindedly at her cake.

Kate noticed.

"Uh-huh. Smart enough to not feed you cake, Henry Mills!" she shouted, launching herself off the bench and running away, cake in hand. Henry's smile grew and he followed.

"I'll get you one day! And your piece of cake, too!" He yelled.

"NEVER!" She laughed hysterically, throwing herself into a tree.

Henry had never been much of a climber, but he gave a valiant effort.

They ended up sharing the cake, high above the ground and all the troubles they didn't know they had.

~*/~*/~*/~

"So I've been dead for three hundred years?" Milah asked, stalking toward what seemed to be nowhere in particular.

"And then some," Killian agrees, jogging forward to walk level with her. "Where have you been? If not alive."

Milah stops in the middle of the street, and he has to double back for her.

"I was in a box," she says slowly. "In a row of boxes with the others. All glass and moonlight and flowers I couldn't reach." She's disjointed, blank, and it worries him because Milah had always been anything but.

"A box? Do you remember who the 'others' were?" She snaps out of it, and suddenly she's all wistful smile and quiet hope.

"There were a few of them. A stable boy and a man who called himself a sheriff, and a few unicorns." Her voice lifts in fondness at the mention of the sheriff and he thinks for a moment of Emma, of his sheriff, and suddenly it crashes down on him.

"The spell," he breathes. "The blue potion." He grabs Milah's arm and barely has the presence of mind to ask her to come with him before he begins pulling her to his home.

~*/~*/~*/~

"Killian." He hears her footsteps behind him, but he doesn't believe it's real, doesn't believe anyone could forgive that.

"You're not real." She manages a strangled chuckle, and he turns to look at her. She looks tired. He skin is ashen, her hair limp and curtaining her shoulders like some sort of armor. Her eyes red-rimmed and flat. But she's here, he realizes. She's here, and she's forgiven him and he doesn't deserve this.

"Of course I'm real, Killian. Don't be such a fool." she walks over to him, leaning over the side of the ship to stare at the waves. His eyes follow her, tracing the new lines on her face and the thinness of her wrists.

"Are we leaving then?" He asks, and the flicker of anticipation in her eyes is glorious because hse isn't gone, she's coming with him.

"Yes. But we're taking them, too." She turns around, and he sees a small, ragged group of survivors from the town. She looks at him and offers her hand.

He takes it.

~*/~*/~*/~

"What are you talking about, Killian?" Milah sputters, watching as he tears apart his bedroom, searching for something she doesn't know.

"It's a potion- a spell- and it's supposed to," he cut off to dive under the bed, "bring the dead back for a day." He triumphantly held up the small bottle, and Milah raised her eybrows bemusedly.

"You still have it though," she pointed out. His grin fell as he realized.

"Come with me." Killian gave her no time to argue, sweeping out the door in a flurry of sudden suspicion.

~*/~*/~*/~

"Keep her here." David and Snow looked at Killian like he was insane.

"She's a ghost," Snow said slowly, as though Killian hadn't heard.

"We can't just lock her up," David added, "She hasn't done anything wrong." But Killian was already gone.

"Hi!" Milah smiled at them, "I'm Milah. It's lovely to meet you!"

~*/~*/~*/~

Killian ran farther and farther into the woods, searching frantically for the path he knew was there somewhere.

"Come on, come on, come on..." He ran as fast as he could, legs pumping, muscles burning, heart flickering to stay alive.

When he had first stolen teh potion from Gold's shop he had first thought fo using it to bring back Emma. But then he had remembered Milah and he just couldn't forget either of them.

But now Milah was alive again. He could see Emma one last time without feeling guilty. He could bring her back.

When he reached the well he nearly collapsed, he was so relieved to see it. He stumbed to the edge of it, uncorking the potion and unceremoniously dumping it's contents into the water. He dropped the vial to the ground and, with trembling fingers, unscrewed the tiny bottle around his neck.

He poured a small amount of silver into the well, keeping as much as he dared.

He waited.

~*/~*/~*/~

"So wait, why do you think he asked you to keep me here?" Milah sipped at her tea.

"I have no idea. I mean, he's been a little cagey lately, but-"

"He's trying to bring Emma back to life." Gold hadn't made a sound coming in, and all three turned to look at him, startled.

"Is that possible?" Snow asked.

"If you're only looking for one day? Yes." Gold sighed and took a step forward. "But I believe somebody's already used up the spell," he pointed at Milah with his cane. "on you, dearie."

Snow and David looked at each other.

"He thinks he's going to see her again," Snow whispered. "Oh no."

"We have to find him," Milah said, standing up. "Where would he have to be to cast the spell?"

~*/~*/~*/~

Killian was still waiting when he heard footsteps in the brush behind him. Standing, he eyed the bushes warily.

"I was waiting for you." The man who stepped out of the shadows was familiar to Killian, who had known him for three hundred years.

"Ridian, but what-?" Killian took a step back, breath freezing in his lungs.

"What am I doing here?" His first mate chuckled. "Oh you foolish man." Ridian walked closer and closer ad Killian's knuckles clenched bloodless white against the vial in his hand.

"You?" Killian gasped, falling back against the well. He wasn't going to see Emma again. She wasn't coming back.

"I replaced the potion, brought Milah back instead. I mean, you were responsible for her death, I thought it only natural you pay the price." Ridian smiled and something clicked in Killian's mind.

"Edric."

"I was First Mate on your ship for three hundred years and you never even noticed. I mean, the burns on the face might have made it hard, but my voice? My name? You never even thought twice, did you?"

"Stop!" Milah's voice echoed through the clearing. "Whatever you're doing, stop!" Ridian jerked back, eyes wide.

"Milah?" His voice trembeled and Killian could almost understand what he'd done.

Almost.

"You bastard!" he took his chance, flinging himself at Ridian with all the force he could muster. They fell against the dirt, Killian using his hook to pin down the other man's wrists.

"Killian, what's-?" Milah began, before she recognized her brotther's face. "Edric. You... You brought me back." He looked away.

"Leave. Before I kill you." David's voice was colder than any of them had ever heard it. Ridian took one look at his face and began to get up. Killian let go and stood.

"You could have asked," he hissed. "I would have given it to you if you had just asked." Ridian had the grace to look ashamed.

They didn't see Killian again for six hours.

It was Milah who knew where he'd be.

"I'm sorry," she said abruptly. "That you can't see her again. I know you loved her."

"I'm sorry," he replied, looking at her sadly, "I'm sorry you died." She looked back at him. "I'm sorry all of this happened to you because of me." He looked up at the stars and whispered, "I'm sorry you ever met me."

She took his hand and smiled.

"I'm not."

Her fingers were cool and solid between his, laced together with strength and surety.

And then, as the clouds drifted away from the moon, they began to fade like mist in the morning.

"Goodbye," she whispered, smiling.

"Goodbye." His hand was empty beside him under the moonlight.

A/N: Well that was grueling.


	13. Moments- Heart

Ten years on and Henry was getting married. The floor of the church is gold-polished wood, and the doors too. Killian was waiting in the front row, proud as any father could be.

He had proposed to Kate under Regina's apple tree. Snow had given him her ring, and while he at first protested she insisted, adding sadly that she'd never have anyone else to give it to. Henry took the ring.

He was nervous, pushing his hair back and pacing, tugging at his tie and fidgeting, and Killian had to snap his fingers in Henry's face to get him to look up.

"Nervous, lad?" Killian smirked at the sheer panic on Henry's face.

"Um, yeah? I am getting MARRRIED, dad. Married." Henry grabbed Killian's coat lapels and dragged him in to hear him hiss, "Married. To. Kate." Killian smiled and pushed Henry back.

"First step, personal space. Second step," he said, straightening henry's crumpled tie. "Look like a gentleman. Step three," he tilted Henry's chin up and shoved in a mint. "Act the part."

Henyr nodded numbly and tripped halfway down the aisle. Killian winced and took his seat quietly.

Kate was nervous. She was still walking around in her underwear, her hair was in a shower cap for some reason Snow couldn't be bothered to think about, and she was wearing eight-inch heels. Red eight-inch heels.

"Calm down, Kate. Henry's had a huge crush on you since we were like, ten." Kate whirled around and gave Grace an incomprehensible look that seemed to be halfway between shocked and annoyed.

"Yeah, but, I mean, I've heard so many stories of relationships not working out, and I just-" Snow clapped a hand over Kate's mouth.

"You're about to be my granddaughter," Snow began kindly. "Henry loves you. You're already a part of our family, Kate, and there's no way this can end badly. You know why?" Kate shook her head. "Because this is just the beginning of your happy ending." Kate smiled.

Henry was borderline hyperventilating when the wedding march began. Killian smiled fondly and tapped his elbow so he'd turn.

When he caught sight of Kate, his entire being seemed to light up, and no wonder. She was always lovely, but today she had seen fit to pull out all the stops.

"Hi," she whispered when she reached him.

"Hi," he smiled back.

"Congratulations!" Snow went in for a humongous hug while David went more for the shoulder-slap approach. Either way, everyone was clearly overjoyed about the news.

"I'm gonna be a dad." Henry nodded to himself. "Yeah."

He spent most of the night quietly, holding hands with Kate and answering a question every now and then. It was a bit worrying, but the rest all decided it would be better to leave him until he was ready to talk.

When he did talk, it was to Killian.

"Okay, I know you've noticed how nervous I am, so I'm just gonna tell you why," Henry blurted to Killian, sitting down next to him. Killian nodded him on. "I don't want to be like Neal."

"I haven't uh, I haven't had the greatest of examples as far as genetics go, so all I can learn from is, um. I can learn from you. And I don't- I dont want to screw this up, and you've just... You're my dad." Killian had to blink back the sudden tears upon him.

"You won't screw this up, Henry. I thought the same, when I first fell in love with Emma. I thought I couldn't possibly be any sort of decent father to you, what with my past and Gold and... And after she died, I had no clue what I was doing. But it worked. I, uh," he smiled, "If there's one thing you can do perfectly, Henry, I believe it's this."

Killian was right.

Kate eventually gave birth to a lovely, tiny, baby girl.

"We should name her after your mother," Kate whispered, stroking one finger over her daughter's forehead.

"Which one?" Henry asked, smiling.

"Both," Kate said.

Emma Regina Mills had eyes as blue as Emma's and a soft fuzz of hair darker than even Kate's. If Killian pretended for a moment, he could almost imagine her as their daughter. His and Emma's, perfect and lovely and tiny.

The moment passed, though, and Killian was glad to return the infant to her mother's loving embrace.

Killian wishes he could say he saw it coming.

"So, this is Emma?" Ruby is cooing over baby Emma in all her newborn glory and Victor is muttering to Killian that if he and Ruby ever have a daughter, he is making damn sure she never meets a boy in her life.

Snow and Kate are talking about carrots and gardening.

"Oh no, it's simple. I mean, usually only about 12% of any harvest is overripe or underripe, so-" and then there's a sudden ripping sound and a blood red glow in Regina's hand.

Kate lets out a gasp and falls oveer. Henry dives down to catch her, and Regina looks at the heart in her hand as if she doesn't know how it got there.

"Mom?" Henry whispers, looking up at her. She shakes her head and tries to say something, but he cuts her off. "No. No, you give it back. Now."

Killian actually manages to grab hold of her arm, but there's an inhuman force crushing the heart in her hand, and Kate's last breath fades into a quiet, "Henry?"

The ashes fall to the ground and Killian doesn't know what to do. He's felt like this before, but there was always something he could do that would help Henry.

Not this time. Nothing helps, Killian knows, so he just focuses on duct-taping Regina's wrists together.

When she's finally locked in the cell, she smiles, and with a burst of violet-blue smoke she turns into Cora.

Regina's halfway across town.

"David? yeah. It was Cora. Not as dead as we'd like. Find Regina and get her to explain to Henry." Killian hangs up.

"Gold! Crocodile!" Killian slams his fist against the door, urgent and trying to force memories from the forefront of his mind.

"What? Some of us are-"

"Cora's killed Kate." Gold's mouth moved furiously for a moment before it clicked.

"You need my help to lock her up." 


	14. Author's Note

Hello followers! I have an announcement to make regarding the next chapter of History repeating. that announcement being that it isn't. To clarify, this last chapter was my April Fool's joke.

From now on, History Repeating will split down two completely different paths.

Any chapter with 'heart' at then end of it's title will be in the continuity where Kate dies. Any chapter with 'sunlight' at the end of it's title will be in the continuity where she lives and all is well.

I hope you all don't hate me too much, and that you're all having nice days/nights!

Love, Metro. 


	15. Moments- Sunlight

Ten years on and Henry was getting married. The floor of the church is gold-polished wood, and the doors too. Killian was waiting in the front row, proud as any father could be.

He had proposed to Kate under Regina's apple tree. Snow had given him her ring, and while he at first protested she insisted, adding sadly that she'd never have anyone else to give it to. Henry took the ring.

He was nervous, pushing his hair back and pacing, tugging at his tie and fidgeting, and Killian had to snap his fingers in Henry's face to get him to look up.

"Nervous, lad?" Killian smirked at the sheer panic on Henry's face.

"Um, yeah? I am getting MARRRIED, dad. Married." Henry grabbed Killian's coat lapels and dragged him in to hear him hiss, "Married. To. Kate." Killian smiled and pushed Henry back.

"First step, personal space. Second step," he said, straightening henry's crumpled tie. "Look like a gentleman. Step three," he tilted Henry's chin up and shoved in a mint. "Act the part."

Henyr nodded numbly and tripped halfway down the aisle. Killian winced and took his seat quietly.

Kate was nervous. She was still walking around in her underwear, her hair was in a shower cap for some reason Snow couldn't be bothered to think about, and she was wearing eight-inch heels. Red eight-inch heels.

"Calm down, Kate. Henry's had a huge crush on you since we were like, ten." Kate whirled around and gave Grace an incomprehensible look that seemed to be halfway between shocked and annoyed.

"Yeah, but, I mean, I've heard so many stories of relationships not working out, and I just-" Snow clapped a hand over Kate's mouth.

"You're about to be my granddaughter," Snow began kindly. "Henry loves you. You're already a part of our family, Kate, and there's no way this can end badly. You know why?" Kate shook her head. "Because this is just the beginning of your happy ending." Kate smiled.

Henry was borderline hyperventilating when the wedding march began. Killian smiled fondly and tapped his elbow so he'd turn.

When he caught sight of Kate, his entire being seemed to light up, and no wonder. She was always lovely, but today she had seen fit to pull out all the stops.

"Hi," she whispered when she reached him.

"Hi," he smiled back.

"Congratulations!" Snow went in for a humongous hug while David went more for the shoulder-slap approach. Either way, everyone was clearly overjoyed about the news.

"I'm gonna be a dad." Henry nodded to himself. "Yeah."

He spent most of the night quietly, holding hands with Kate and answering a question every now and then. It was a bit worrying, but the rest all decided it would be better to leave him until he was ready to talk.

When he did talk, it was to Killian.

"Okay, I know you've noticed how nervous I am, so I'm just gonna tell you why," Henry blurted to Killian, sitting down next to him. Killian nodded him on. "I don't want to be like Neal."

"I haven't uh, I haven't had the greatest of examples as far as genetics go, so all I can learn from is, um. I can learn from you. And I don't- I dont want to screw this up, and you've just... You're my dad." Killian had to blink back the sudden tears upon him.

"You won't screw this up, Henry. I thought the same, when I first fell in love with Emma. I thought I couldn't possibly be any sort of decent father to you, what with my past and Gold and... And after she died, I had no clue what I was doing. But it worked. I, uh," he smiled, "If there's one thing you can do perfectly, Henry, I believe it's this."

Killian was right.

Kate eventually gave birth to a lovely, tiny, baby girl.

"We should name her after your mother," Kate whispered, stroking one finger over her daughter's forehead.

"Which one?" Henry asked, smiling.

"Both," Kate said.

Emma Regina Mills had eyes as blue as Emma's and a soft fuzz of hair darker than even Kate's. If Killian pretended for a moment, he could almost imagine her as their daughter. His and Emma's, perfect and lovely and tiny.

The moment passed, though, and Killian was glad to return the infant to her mother's loving embrace.

Killian wishes he could say he saw it coming.

"So, this is Emma?" Ruby is cooing over baby Emma in all her newborn glory and Victor is muttering to Killian that if he and Ruby ever have a daughter, he is making damn sure she never meets a boy in her life.

Snow and Kate are talking about carrots and gardening.

"Oh no, it's simple. I mean, usually only about 12% of any harvest is overripe or underripe, so it's a very profitable investment,"

Killian looks around him and smiles, bathing in the sunlight and the sheer feeling of home around him.

Maybe he hasn't screwed this up. 


	16. Recovery- Heart

Gold did, in fact, come over to help them lock Cora away.

"Hold her down, hold her down! David!" It took them two hours to strip her of her magic, and she aged visibly in front of their eyes.

"I can't! For a seventy-year-old lady, she's pretty freakin' strong!" David tried in futility to get the duct tape around her writs.

"Get off of me you cretins!" Cora smacked Gold in the face, and Belle dabbed away the blood on his cheek. Snow growled and put all of her weight on Cora's ankles.

Eventually, the four of them managed to get her subdued and duct-taped. Sitting alone in the cell, shriveled and tired and bruised, Killian almost couldn't believe she was the same formidable Queen of Hearts he had allied himself with so very long ago.

But there was this glint in her eye, this shine of smugness and victory, and any pity Killian had had for her evaporated in the rememberance of Emma and Kate's deaths.

This frail, shriveled, bruised seventy-year-old lady was the cause of so much death and destruction, and foremost in his mind were the echoes of Emma's last gasping breath.

"This ends it," Killian murmured.

"What ends what?" Ruby sounded exhausted, and he could hardly blame her. One of her friends had just died, and Henry was surely going mad.

"We have to kill her. Permanently." Ruby nodded, wise eyes turning cold.

"She'll never stop, will she?" Her voice broke, and Killian pulled her into a hug.

"She will if we make her."

"Let me get this straight," David asked, ever-youthful eyes narrowing with thought, "You want to rip out Cora's heart, crush it, and send her to some place under the well where ghosts live?"

"Well when you say it like that..." Killian drawled, before standing eye-to-eye with David. "This woman killed your daughter. Your granddaughter. She will never stop killing unless we kill her." His words were empty, repetitive, but they did the job.

David nodded thoughtfully, Snow's fist clenching around her bow.

"Tonight, then."

The wind swept through the bushes and trees like a specter. Killian didn't feel the cold. The wind was welcome, though, a constant reminder of the sea.

"Let's get this over with, then," David undoubtedly sounded more confident than he felt, but his hands were steady as he knotted the rope around Cora's neck, hooking the other end around a branch to pull her spine up straight.

Regina may once have shed tears over her mother's death, but this time Cora had destroyed something she held dearer than her mother. Henry's happiness was something that Regina had tried endlessly to protect, and though she had failed spectacularly in the past, she had at least never murdered his wife.

Henry himself wouldn't speak willingly to anyone but Killian, David, and Snow. He had asked Ruby to look after Emma, but those had been the only words to anyone else since Kate's death. He wouldn't look away from Cora, seemingly trying to find something, anything, to stop him from letting this happen.

In the end, he didn't find it.

Regina took a deep breath, and with a quirk of her head, she thrust her hand clean through Cora's chest, drawing out a pale glow of red.

Killian knew enough now to suspect that the paleness of Cora's heart was unnatural. Come to think of it, so was the fact that it was in her chest.

"Wait!" He suddenly threw out an arm, latching his fingers about Regina's wrist to stop her from crushing it.

"You were the one who suggested this," David began angrily, "Why change your mind now?" Killian licked his lips and tried to think of a way to explain.

"Because that isn't her heart," Henry said flatly. "She keeps her heart somewhere else." Cora began to laugh, deep, reckless bursts that were both manic and triumphant.

"Then whose heart is it?" Snow asked quietly, as Cora's laughter blew on behind them.

They didn't have an answer.

They decided to lock Cora up again until they foudn her real heart.

She didn't put up a fight.

Henry trudged home, feet dragging over the wet asphalt. Killian walked a ways behind him, giving him space to think. He remembered that feeling, the mixture of complete denial and utter devestation.

Because you didn't want to believe it. You wanted it to all be a dream or a trick or a lie, even when you knew it wasn't. That morning you had a wife, a kid, a home, a family. Everything you ever wanted.

Next thing you knew it was all gone. With one damning, crushing blow to the heart.

Killian caught up to Henry.

"Does it get better?" The tired, emotionless voice beside him made Killian remember Henry as a child, a bright, bold thing, all floppy hair and sassy remarks and true, deep belief in every fiber of his being.

There was none of that now.

"No." Killian breathed a wisp of mist up at the sky. "If anything, it gets worse. You never stop wishing. Wishing you'd seen it, wishing you'd been faster, wishing you'd had time to think. Wishing you'd had time to say goodbye. You never stop mourning. You never stop dying inside when you see something of them in their kid."

Henry looked up at him, but Killian was too far gone to stop now. "You never stop hating yourself, stop wishing you were dead instead of them. None of it stops. None of it. And d'you know why?"

Henry didn't move, teary eyes still fixed on Killian's turned-away face.

"Because you loved them. Because that was true love, love at it's best, it's deepest. They were everything to you, you whole world, and now that's gone. Because they mattered. And you wish and wish and wish for the moon, the stars, to be dead yourself.

But you never once wish you'd never met them. Because what would you be if you hadn't? What would be left of you, what sort of a person would you be? You wouldn't. And you love them all the more, for the memories, the life you had, you might've had. The kid you've got to look after. You love them because they gave you- give you. They give you something to live for. Even when they're dead."

Killian swallowed. Henry broke. He threw himself into Killian's arms, the way he had when he was just a child, still dreaming of his mother's death.

"I'm sorry," Killian whispered into Henry's hair. "I'm sorry."

They buried Kate on a Thursday.

Killian planted dahlias on Emma's grave.

They grew fine. He watered them every day.

The heart that might have been Cora's was still sitting in a wooden box, waiting for it's owner, when Ruby burst in sputtering about somebody named Peter.

A/N: Well what d'you know, I'm actually going back to the original plan. Also, that speech killian gave to Henry made me cry. Salty tears in the middle of my hotel room. 


	17. Recovery-Sunshine

Kate groaned and shoved her head under her pillows.

"Your turn," She muttered, shoving Henry half-heartedly. He scoffed and shoved her back.

"I did it two hours ago," he protested.

"Do it again then. I gave birth to her, you can feed her." Kate was not a morning person, nor was she particularly in the mood to argue with her husband.

So naturally Henry started tickling her. Because that was the smartest thing to do to tired, overworked mothers.

Henry did end up feeding Emma.

Kate refused to get up until ten in the morning.

~*/~*/~*/~

Killian was used to not aging. He had spent three hundred years in Neverland, after all, and then twenty-eight after that stuck in a curse that froze time.

But this was different. There was no reason for him to stay the same age, not now, not here in Storybrooke. He was surprised it had taken them so long to notice. He looked the same as he always had, frozen in time since the day Milah died.

Looking in the mirror, he examined himself with new eyes. Dark hair, no sign of greys. Blue eyes, no loss of vision. Skin unwrinkled, but for the squint of seafaring eyes. To any outward observer he seemed a man in his thirties. Killian frowned at himself, feeling those centuries he had passed in Neverland deep in his bones.

"Is this what it's come to?" he sighed, looking up at where he imagined some sort of cruel gods would be cackling. "You bastards."

~*/~*/~*/~

It must have been six months after Emma's death that Henry came skidding into the kitchen brandishing a basket of folded paper cards.

"What's all this?" he'd asked, and Henry was astonished to find that their world's version of Valentine's Day was a custom Killian was unfamiliar with.

Then he'd roped Killian into writing an assortment of cheesy and/or pun-based phrases on his cards.

"Because your handwriting's neater," the boy had smirked.

Somehow Killian didn't think that was the reason. He only had one hand, after all, so his hook left small holes in the paper. Henry didn't mind, and hugged him.

Later that night though, Killian rummaged through the kitchen, upending cabinets and boxes to find what he was searching for. He pulled the matches from a drawer, and the cupcake from the fridge. With some adjustments he stuck the candle in the frosting, lighting the match off his hook.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Em," he whispered, blowing the tiny spark out before the wax melted.

Henry found a blue star candle on the table the next morning, and it did remind him of the one he'd seen his mom with when he first met her, but he didn't pay it any mind.

The star candle would be lit every year until it was nothing more than a small glob of blue wax.

Killian got a new one for the next year.

~*/~*/~*/~

"You mean you're not aging?" Snow asked, crossing her arms worriedly.

"Not at all. I don't think I ever will," Killian allowed a small, nostalgic smile to settle on his face. "There is a reason Peter left Neverland every now and then. Too long in that place and," he looked across the room at the mirror, "You end up like me."

"Is there any way to stop it?" David asked, sounding a far way from the man Killian had first met. He actually cared whether Killian lived or died, for one thing.

"None that I know of," Killian sighed. Snow nodded, and he noticed for the first time the paleness of her once-jet black hair, David's kind, wrinkled face, and he suddenly wished he could sweep them away to Neverland, that he could stop them aging as easliy as he had condemned himself.

He knew he couldn't.

~*/~*/~*/~

"So you and my mom are dating?" Henry smiled gleefully, and Killian couldn't help but smile back.

"Yes indeed," he glanced sideways at the boy, "Is that alright?"

"Alright? It's freakin' awesome!" Killian laughed as Henry launched himself at him in a hug. "Can I see your ship now?"

~*/~*/~*/~

"So you'll never die of old age? Never get asthma? never break a hip?" Kate's questions had gotten progressively less serious throughout the conversation, and Killian couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"No, Katherine. I shall never have the honor of breaking my hip," he smiled back sarcastically. He was grateful for her acceptance of the issue, though. Kate seemed to take most of Storybrooke's weirdness in stride, so it shouldn't really have surprised him.

"Then can I ask you something?" Henry bit his lip.

"Of course. Anything."

"When all of us are gone... Will you look after Emma? And the others?" Killian's heart rose to his throat. He forgot, sometimes, how this was his family now. His son, and his daughter and his granddaughter and parents. And every time he was reminded it never failed to make him so unutterably grateful that Emma had given him that second chance.

It never failed to make him miss her, wish she was here to see how wonderful her family was, what a bloody miracle all of this was.

"Of course," he choked out. "I swear."

~*/~*/~*/~

"Door," Emma managed to gasp out, breaking the kiss for a moment before diving back in. Taking the hint, Killian scrabbled about behind her and, using his left arm to press her further against him, he locked the door with his one hand.

"Worried?" He smirked. She pressed her fingers into his spine to retaliate and he shivered.

"Parents," she groaned, raising both hands to tangle in his hair as he moved to kiss her neck.

"Still haven't told them?" He chuckled, and she made a face that clearly stated her intention to smack him.

"I've certainly told them, I'm just worried they might walk in on us while we're..." She waved her arms in frustration. "Y'know what, to hell with that. Kiss me."

He did.

~*/~*/~*/~

He sometimes imagined their future, Emma and him. In the darkest part of the night, with his arms around her waist and her hair spread out in wild curls across their pillows.

He imagined a ring, thick enough to be strong yet still light. A deep blue stone, like midnight sky and darkest ocean. He imagines kneeling down and sliding it onto her thin finger.

He imagines her all in white, gold hair spilling from under a veil. A band of gold on his finger.

He imagines their children, Henry as the oldest, protector of the younger. He imagines a boy, all pale hair and sea-blue eyes and carefree devotion and glasses askew on his nose. A girl, dark curls and cocky daring and silver-bright eyes glimmering in the sun.

He imagines them as toddlers, taking halting, wobbling steps, clinging tightly to their parents' hands. He imagines filing down the tip of his hook to keep from hurting them as their small sweaty fingers grasp the cool metal.

He imagines them children, all new knowledge and pencil shavings and first friends. First enemies, and if that bully takes one look at them he'll-

He imagines them as teenagers, her getting her first boyfriend, then her second, going through the line until she finds one who treats her well and is smart enough to read Shakespeare. He imagines him, breathless as he sees his girlfriend dressed for a dance, heartbroken in the wake of first love. Her pouring food coloring into the girl's hair dye and taking pictures as she walks into first period with blue hair and a humiliated look.

He imagines growing old with her, blonde hair turning moon-white with time, wrinkles carving deeply into her face as she smiles. He imagines seeing her every day and never knowing someone more beautiful.

Sometimes he'd still imagine.

More often than not, though, these imaginary futures, possible lives all end with her dying on the Jolly ROger's deck.

And now they end with him holding her, hair moon-white and face wrinkled on her deathbed. Because he could never grow old with her. Now he knew that.

He's stopped trying to see a way out. There isn't one.


	18. Bleeding Hearts

TW: blood. (Red has a bit of a theme here, as the color, not the character)

"So you're saying your dead ex-boyfriend- who you just happened to eat- is back from the dead? Because Cora had his heart?" Killian wasn't the only one confused. Snow's face was a mass of sympathy and confusion, and David looked as though he had stopped caring a long time ago as he poured a glass of whiskey.

"Yep. Pretty much." Ruby made 'come with me' gestures and the three eventually stood up, perplexed, to do as she asked.

"Told Victor yet?" Her face fell.

"No. I just didn't think-" she faltered, and Snow hugged her.

"It'll be fine. Just fine." Killian waited a moment, but sensing they weren't going to move any time soon, kept walking. As acting Sheriff, David had appointed Killian his deputy.

This was well within his jurisdiction, then. As were zombies, witches, heart thefts, the odd murder... Killian was so lost in thought that he ran into a man he'd never seen before. Killian had lived in Storybrooke for some seventeen years. He knew everyone.

"You must be Peter."

Day after day after day.

~*/~*/~*/~

Killian hissed, straight razor scraping a fine layer of skin off his cheek. He had to look presentable today, but he was beginning to rethink the shave. Nobody had ever much minded the stubble before.

Rinsing the razor, he tried again.

He wished he had thought of this yesterday.

~*/~*/~*/~

"So, he just kind of appeared?" Henry nodded, gesturing to a wide hole in the ground.

"He was trying to crawl out of there. We had to pull him out in the end."

"What do you remember?" Killian narrowed his eyes at Peter.

"Not much. I mean, Red turned into the wolf and sort of, tore into me, and then I don't remember.. well, anything."

"Not even a woman ripping out your heart?" Peter shook his head.

"Nothing."

~*/~*/~*/~

Killian passed several people on the streets, but few enough for six in the morning that he was unworried.

People didn't just come into Storybrooke.

He was glad he had shaved, though. The wind brushed past his cheek in a way it hadn't since Kate had died.

Back then, he had thought Cora was the biggest problem he had.

He had been wrong.

~*/~*/~*/~

"Calm down, Ruby. Victor'll understand." Snow tried to calm her friend down.

"But what if he isn't? What if he breaks up with me? What if I never see him again?" Ruby suddenly gasped and clapped her hands to her cheeks. "What if I eat Victor, too?" Snow rolled her eyes, patting Ruby's back.

"I'm sure you'll both be fine. Victor's always wanted to see the digestional tract of a werewolf, anyway."

~*/~*/~*/~

The sun was just rising as Killian reached his destination. He passed a few others to kneel at the edge of the grass.

"Hello, you."  
~*/~*/~*/~

"Victor, Victor, Victor, calm down." David managed to snag Victor by the arm and pull him back.

"She loved him. He loved her. She was a werewolf. He was an idiot. She killed him. Now he's back, and they're flirting. What is there to be calm about?"

David thought for a moment. Opened his mouth. Closed it.

"You have a bit of a point." Victor quirked an eyebrow smugly. "A bit! Not a whole point! I mean, the flirting would be worrying, but..." Victor began to walk away and David followed him again. "She ate him! I mean, I'd be kinda bitter, wouldn't you?"

Victor froze. Turned in shock to stare at David, mouth open and eyes wide.

"Cora had his heart." David caught on.

"Ruby." Victor said quietly.

"Snow." David said.

They ran.

~*/~*/~*/~

As the sun rose higher and higher, others joined him, laying flowers of their own down.

All were silent, the sun burning some of their sadness away and stealing their tears into the air. It hadn't been so long ago that they were children, innocent and alone, so very far from the people beneath their feet.

Killian's hand traced over the letters, over and over. He did it so often that one day they'd erode, be ground back into the stone from which they had risen.

He'd be there to see it happen, every year he'd aid the process. Until one day, very far from now, maybe his curse would lift with the magic as it faded from Storybrooke. Maybe he'd keep going for forty more years, until his bones creaked like wood in the sun, until his hair was sea foam and his skin was salt.

He'd fade with the dawn and drift to sea, to be reunited with Emma on the ocean floor.

Maybe one day.

It hadn't happened yet.

~*/~*/~*/~

Step after step, pace after pace a steady one-two-three-four _runrunrun don't be late you fool_ playing on repeat in his head. David ran, he pushed himself until his legs felt like they'd snap and his breath was gone forever, his lungs aching for air.

He swung around the corner to where he'd last seen the three of them, hand scraping open on the edge, blood dripping down his palm and flickering like rain on his fingers.

He banged on the door, frantic and fearful and oh god if he lost Snow as well he'd never recover. He waited as steps came to the door, the blood on his hand falling in tiny tendrils down the doorframe, and when Snow opens the door he pulls her into his arms.

He's never been gladder to see her. He's bleeding onto her dress, but she doesn't care, she's too worried for him, because he's holding her as though she'll fly away and breathing her in like she'll turn to smoke.

And then there's a clicking behind him, a familiar, menacing darkness behind his eyes, and then he's facedown on the floor and someone is screaming.

David managed to stand, stars like birds bursting into neon light in the back of his head and he's damn-near blind, but he lures Peter- and Peter's got a gun, how did he get a gun who gave him one and where's Victor and where's Killian- out to the hallway, and he passes a pool of blood, a trail leading to a balcony, and he sees Victor slumped next to the door, trying in vain to staunch the bleeding.

David keeps running, and he wonders for a moment whether this is actually a good idea, he's not as young as he used to be and he's just turned fifty-one and Ruby could be anywhere and there are people everywhere.

And then Peter's got him pinned to the ground, swept his legs out from under him, and his eyes are glowing red and his gun is pressed to the side of David's head.

He closes his eyes, thinks of Emma, and Kate and his mother, and all the others who have died so pointlessly and he savors the thought that at least he managed to save Snow.

But he can hear through the dark, there's a cry of pain, and a flicker of red in front of his eyes, and he opens them in shock.

There's a long, thin line of red across Peter's throat, and at first it doesn't register what that means. But then Peter falls sideways, head sliding off his body and David can see Ruby in front of him, axe swung up over her shoulder, tears on her face and pain in her eyes.

She lowers the axe, letting it just drop, letting go so it falls over with a final clang, a few drops of blood flinging off to drop on the cement.

"Goodbye," she whispers to the echo of Peter, lip trembling and hands bloody. "For good." She nearly falls and he holds her up, letting her throw her arms around him and cry, for all she'd done and all she'd lost, the blood on her hands.

"Forever," David agrees gently, feeling her tears seep into his shirt.

~*/~*/~*/~

The wolf had ravaged him, Cora observed, not much corpse left to steal from. She turned to leave when a hand gripped her skirt feebly.

"H-help... M-me..." The harsh remains of his voice were ragged and wet with blood he was trying to swallow.

"Gladly," she smiled, leaning down to thrust her hand into his chest. He choked, blood spilling from the corners of his mouth. She returned from his corpse with her prize, a glowing, tattered thing beating faintly in her hand. "Well aren't you a fighter." He wasn't dead yet, and he wouldn't be until she said so.

His voice failed him, and she smiled.

~*/~*/~*/~

Killian stayed long after the others had gone, fingers tracing the letters over and over again, ceaseless in his devotion, unchanging in his grief.

The stars above him were sparkling, bright and immortal as he was.

_And when Orion died, the witch placed him in the sky, to live forever in the stars._

_Emma,_ he thought, _Oh Emma. If only._

"Are they with you now?" he asked, a tear sliding down to land in the grass, mingling with the dew that would soon rest there. "Are you together?" He looked up. "Without me?" His voice broke.

His fingers traced the words unconciously, tied forever to the last evidence of his family.

His _family._

The sun rose, and he hadn't moved.

A/N:

So basically, this leads up to all the events in the next Heart chapter. The next Sunshine chapter will be the last of that verse, and the chapter after that will fit both of the verses.


	19. Old Sunshine

A/N: So basically this was just an excuse to write Killian basically being Emma the Second's other dad.

Emma was learning to walk. Henry and Kate were both summarily turned away when they tried to help, but dear uncle Killian was the chosen victim for this lesson. His son and daughter-in-law tended to collapse in laughter as he followed her every command, and Killian himself turned to glare furiously at them.

Which was hilarious because Killian had never looked less intimidating.

~*/~*/~*/~

Killian was never quite sure what to do about Emma's boyfriends. On the one hand, she had a type: clever, polite lads with easy smiles who walked to school. On the other, Killian had been a teenage boy once.

A particularly badly-behaved teenager, in point of fact.

So no, he did not feel that nearly shooting her latest hanger-on in the face was an overreaction to the slightest insinuation that he'd like to, er, dishonor her.

Killian went in for more subtle tactics after that.

Like threatening letters in serial-killer cut-outs, and the (quite frankly) terrifying smiles he bore whilst keeping a steady hand on the boy-of-the-week's shoulder and detailing quietly exactly what he'd do to him if he hurt Emma.

She was unamused and unperturbed.

By her logic, if her boyfriend was unwilling to brave her granddad, then obviously he'd fail in any other circumstances requiring bravery.

Killian approved of this logic, if only because it kept her from keeping a steady boyfriend.

~*/~*/~*/~

Killian watched silently from the window as Henry and Kate chased Emma all over the house. She was screaming laughter, tiny legs moving more quickly than any of them thought possible.

He didn't like to think about it, but sometimes he couldn't help himself.

If he and Emma had had children, if they had been so lucky, would they resemble little Emma in the other room? Would they look like Emma? Or Killian?

It was a thought he'd had more often than he'd admit, both while Henry was growing up and now that he had a daughter of his own.

He only hoped that they wouldn't have inherited his curse, that they would have grown old and died in their time, that they would have moved on and seen things he had long lost hope of seeing.

He only hoped they would have been happy.

He thinks they might have.

~*/~*/~*/~

Kate and Henry died in a car crash when Emma was eight years old.

He hopes she doesn't understand at first, but she does, and it's terrifying.

She wheels around in circles, eyes fixed ahead like if she spins fast enough she won't hear the doctors comforting Killian.

Kate died quickly, immediately. A piece of shrapnel drove itself through her lung, into her heart. He wonders if she felt it, if she worried for her family, if she even realized what was happening. He wonders how he's supposed to keep going after this.

They try to tell him about Henry and he doesn't even hear. Because all he can see is Henry, young and small and brave. Kind and clever and brighter than the sun with all the belief inside of him. All he can hear is Emma in the back of his head, back in that cell. When he was still working with Cora, (what a long way they've come) begging him to let her go, telling him her son was waiting, that he needed her.

He needed her.

He hears Kate, standing tall and braced for rejection, asking him to look after her daughter, hears Henry, nervous and fidgety and about to get married, hears David calling Killian his son, hears Snow laughing at something Red had said.

He doesn't know how he's supposed to go on, but he knows he will.

~*/~*/~*/~

Emma's eighteen, and going off to college. She's laughing, free and ridiculous at something Victor just told her about the perils of the male collegiate population. And it aches, a little, inside of him.

She sounds like Snow.

She's studying myths, folklore. Out-of-state, his stomach churns, far away in new York. He tries not to panic that she'll be away, out of sight.

In a car.

Just like her parents.

He hugs her goodbye, kisses her forehead, and quite seriously tells her that he'd be willing to drag out his old pirate ways for any boy who hurts her, and that she can call him any time, any at all.

Tries not to panic when she walks away.

Tries not to cry when she flashes him a smile that is as much Kate as it is Emma.

~*/~*/~*/~

Emma was supposed to be coming home for a week. It was winter break, two weeks off for post-midterm relaxation and recuperation. She had been so ecxited about it, had sounded ecstatic over the phone.

And now she was gone.

They found her car off the road at the town line, hood popped and doors flung open. They searched for her, searched for a good six months before miserably giving up.

Killian stopped looking after a year. Stopped everything. If it hadn't been for his curse, he would've surely died.

He would've welcomed it by then.

First his parents, then Milah, then Bae, Emma, Snow, David, Henry, Kate. And now Emma. Everybody ended up gone.

And here he was, still alive. If you could really call it alive. Red and Victor visited often, trying to ply him with muffins, cheese, sandwiches.

He ate occasionally, if they seemed particularly distressed or if he felt like it. He didn't feel like it very often, though.

He didn't feel much of anything, really.

~*/~*/~*/~

A/N: So yeah, that went downhill fast, but next chapter is better I promise. HAPPY ENDING.


	20. Ever After

Killian had been in Storybrooke for a long, long time. Not nearly as long as he had been in Neverland, (and oh god, did he regret that sometimes), but long enough for it to matter. He still looked to be in his thirties, dark hair and clear blue eyes mocking him whenever he looked in the mirror.

_You're the one who didn't want to grow up,_ his reflection sneered. _Well you've gotten your wish now. How does it feel?_

To be honest it felt like crap.

Killian remembered meeting Emma, being charmed off his feet by her confidence, her vulnerability, her honesty, her insight. He remembered loving her, remembered the pain of loss. A pain still felt.

He remembered walking Henry to school and watching him get married.

Remembered Snow's utter distaste for him in the beginning, and later, her utter acceptance of him into her family. David's near-martial watch over his daughter, and that same protective gaze being lowered over him.

Remembered roses at their funeral.

He remembered laughter and balloons at a birthday party, for who, he can't discern. Remembers wedding cake and black clothes.

Death and life and life and death.

Killian remembered holding little Emma as she cried, remembered sunny days spent telling her stories and nights spent watching her bake her insomnia away. Remembered planting dahlias and daisies over Henry and Emma.

Remembered five graves in a cemetery he'd never be laid to rest in.

But that was okay. It was all okay.

He still had Henry's Emma, had Red and Victor and Jiminy, Jefferson and Grace and Regina and so so many others. Some had passed on, a few had left, but it was okay.

Because that was how time worked. It kept moving, kept pushing you forward if you didn't move your feet. It refused to pass you by, instead insisting on pulling you with it, forever moving forward, forever glancing back.

Granny was gone now, too. So was Gepetto, Sydney Glass. Cora had just withered away. Dust in the air.

As Belle grew older and Gold didn't, a decision was made. When it became clear that he wouldn't die as long as he was in Storybrooke, he handed his shop over to Killian, gave him a locked box with a dagger inside and told him to keep it closed.

He and Belle were later said to have resuscitated a library in upper New York, filled it with magical books. Hid and guarded it.

And one day, when Killian received word that Gold had died, quietly and unspectacularly in a hospital, he found within himself no sting of regret that he wasn't responsible.

Only a quiet melancholy for all the things that were ending around him.

And then one day Regina wasn't in her office.

They found her sprawled, undignified, over her front walk, black hair frosting over with silver and smooth skin slowly wrinkling with hidden age. Turned out her magic had failed her. She just stopped. Couldn't keep herself alive anymore, not even with her willpower. Emma went to her funeral, laid down deep violet orchids and a single red rose, so dark it seemed black.

Jefferson got sick one winter, and he didn't get better. Jiminy was one day freed of his duty, found lying on his bed with a wide, wide smile on his face and a letter from Regina clutched carefully between his hands. It was just one after another and soon Killian stopped keeping track.

When Emma disappeared, Killian just stopped.

The clock was still stagnant, eight fifteen on the dot.

August left town, when Killian wasn't quite sure. It may have been after Emma disappeared, it may have been before Henry and Kate died. He stopped marking things with holidays or weekdays.

He stopped everything.

For about ten years, Killian was more frozen and purposeless than he had ever been. Grace married some guy from Portland, dragged him back to Storybrooke. She knocked on the door, found it unlocked.

She talked to Killian for about an hour.

Nobody else ever knew what she said, neither of them ever told. But Killian left that apartment, walked out of the door for the first time in ten years, little more than a skeleton with a dying heart.

Forty-four years in Storybrooke, and he began to look backwards again.

He went to the docks.

The wood was familiar, weathered and rough beneath his feet.

"I should be looking for her." He sighed, winter-cold air frosting over with clouds of his breath. "Emma, I mean."

Most people would take a moment to slip off their shoes, socks. He sat on the edge, ignoring or perhaps unfeeling of the ice water seeping through the seams of his shoes and into his bones.

"Not you, Emma. I mean Henry's Emma. The young one." He looked down into the water, as though he could see to the bottom if he tried.

He couldn't.

And not just because it was, well, the ocean, but because of the blue threads of light tangling around his legs. Killian knew that light, knew the warmth of it, the bone-chilling feeling as it swept through you.

And he knew, without any bit of doubt, where Emma was.

Because that light only came from a portal to Neverland.

So he smiled, looked up as if his Emma was listening and said quietly, "Thank you."

He braced his hand against the dock's edge, eyes wide and mouth closed. Then he pushed, falling gracelessly into the water. The roughness of it felt good on his face, like he was finally waking up from a long sleep. Once he got his bearings, focused enough to grasp a thread of light in his hand, he could feel something. Something he hadn't felt in a very, very long time. There was a pull in his chest, a burning urge to dive, deep deep down into the very depths of the sea.

The air he had locked in his lungs had long since expired, and the burning in his chest was as much in his lungs as his heart. But on he went, forever down into the dark. When he reached the portal, he thought he was dying, the light was so bright. But he could see the sun, far above him, a different sun that shone like sizzling gold.

He had reached Neverland.

Killian breached the surface of the water harshly, sun blinding him and salt like acid in his lungs. His hair fell over his eyes and for a moment he lost track of which way was up. That is, until he heard the unmistakeable sound of mermaids laughing at some poor fool.

Well he was a fool, alright. But he wasn't going to give up on Emma now, and it was as good a bet as any that they were the ones to have taken her. Nobody else could swim that deep.

"Excuse me," he began, wading onto the shore and across the tiny strip of land that separated the sea from their lagoon. "you wouldn't happen to have seen a young girl? Yay high, dark hair, blue eyes?" When they merely continued giggling, he added as an afterthought, "Legs?"

"Why should we tell you?" A redhead, whom Killian faintly remembered as being named Devina, rolled onto her back to look down at him. Also to give him a prime view of her chest, which he ignored. He'd seen all the tricks before.

"Because I'm bloody Captain Hook, and she's my granddaughter," he replied shortly. Devina arched a thin eyebrow.

"You look good for your age, Captain."

"So I've been told," he quipped, brandishing his hook. "Now tell me before I feel the need to go fishing."

"Ohhhh, her..." A blonde sighed despondently. "She's over there." Killian scrambled frantically over the rocks to the spot underwater she'd gestured to. The mermaids snickered. He turned a half inch, and the mermaids scattered, swimming back to their ocean lair.

"Emma?" He felt beneath the surface frantically, "Emma?!"

"Hi." He turned abruptly. He hadn't heard that voice in years. It was like hearing an expertly played symphony after being subjected to horrible renditions of 'Hot Cross Buns' for four decades.

"Emma?" He knew she'd hear him, despite the fact that he'd barely gasped her name.

And Emma it was. Just not the one he had been looking for. She looked good, her hair tied up in braids and wrapped in a dress made of white linen. She smiled at him, and he realized she had found Emma. The girl had a blanket over her shoulders, and despite the perpetually sunny climate of Neverland, her lips were blue.

"Hi Uncle Killian." She waved. Killian was still bowled over by the reappearance of his lost love, and absently waved back with a flick of fingers.

"You can't be real," he breathed.

"No," Emma replied simply, "but I am. Isn't that the point of Neverland? Impossible things become possible?" He took a step forward, reached out. His fingers brushed her forearm, and the warmth, the mere feel of skin on skin made him nearly collapse.

This was real. She was real.

His fingers tightened around her arm and pulled her to his chest. Her arms went around his waist, his hand to the back of her head.

"Gods, how I've missed you." He whispered into her hair. She nodded, eyes clenching shut as she buried her face in his dripping-wet collar.

"Um, guys?" The poor girl was still shivering, and she pointed, frightened, behind the two. They turned as one, finding themselves face-to-face with a group of bristling mermaids.

"I think we run," Killian said, looking to Emma, whose arm was still around his waist.

"Yeah," she nodded. "Totally."

They splashed quickly from the lagoon, Emma hooking one arm through the elbow of her granddaughter and dragging her along behind them.

"Come on!" She yelled gleefully, plunging into the sea. Still hand-in-hand with Emma, who was hand-in-hand with Killian, Emma the younger found herself being yanked under. Her startled gasp was quickly muffled by saltwater, and as the trio swept through the portal, she began to claw her way upwards after her grandparents.

"I am never leaving Storybrooke again," she gasped, clambering onto the dock. Killian chuckled ruefully.

"You were never really meant to leave in the first place," he coughed.

"Actually," Emma began, lying one her back. "She was. It's only because of her I'm here."

"Oh?" Killian lay down next to her. "Do tell." And then suddenly, "Wait, you'r both named Emma." The two nodded in sync. "What am I supposed to call you?"

"Well, I could be Em and she can be Emma." With that, the younger of the two flopped backwards, eyes set closed stubbornly, as though she'd rather never wake up again, thank you very much.

"Well then," Emma started, smiling, "my heart was ripped out." Killian shot her an look, which she laughed at. "The ashes of my heart get spread in the ocean," at this Killian smiled sheepishly, "fall through the portal, end up in Neverland. Some fairy- I think her name was Tina Bell? Something Bell?- anyway, she does some wacko fairy spell, and until a blood relative ends up within ten feet of me, I'm still dead. So, the lovely Em here gets kidnapped by mermaids and ends up about, well, ten feet from me. And now I'm alive."

And then Emma promptly fell asleep to prove her point.

Three weeks later, and Emma was still being asked by incredulous passer-by how she was (miraculously) alive again.

"I mean, the first few times it was alright, but now I just wanna rip all my hair out," she explained to Red, who nodded obligingly and attempted to sneak her another cookie.

"Duh."

Thirteen years later, and looking not a day older, Emma and Killian concurred that due to Tinker Bell's 'wacko fairy spell', as well as the forty-some nonstop years spent in Neverland, she was as unaging as he was.

Emma was adjusting well to being alive-again.

She still liked cinnamon in her hot cocoa, still looked pained and sad whenever someone mentioned her parents. She still took flowers to the four graves on the hill. She cried, and made Killian promise not to tell.

He held her closer, and never did.

Em visited from college, bringing countless boyfriends, (each of whom fled the minute her grandparents set upon them), and eventually, a large brown leather-bound book.

She proposed they write down the town's stories, the ones not told in Henry's book.

So they did.

The story of a kindhearted, lonely pirate and a long-lost, walled-off princess, of a cricket and a queen. A wolf and a scientist, a puppet and his father. Of a sleeping beauty, a warrior maiden and the prince who loved them both. Of a spinner and a librarian, a schoolteacher and a coma patient. Every one of them on a journey, making mistakes, winning and losing battles. Of history repeating itself, and happy endings. And it was a happy ending. Or it would have been, if that was the end.

But Killian and Emma lived on. They're still living.

_Happily ever after._


End file.
